Hero
by firetrap
Summary: Grimmjow lives life as a delivery boy. One day, he is approached by a strange creature? Person? who changes his life. From there on, Grimmjow becomes something he never thought he'd be. A hero to someone, and a hero for the people. M mostly for language. AU Eventual GrimmIchi.
1. Small Beginnings

**1. Small Beginnings**

He awoke.

The El Train roaring past, magnitude of its presence enough to rattle the nearby windows. Grimmjow had never gotten used to it. Always at 4 in the morning it blasted by at super speeds. Always at 4 in the morning bloodshot sleepy eyes snapped open just in time to catch the first glimpse of the metal mechanism. It shot past, empty seated, white fluorescent lights illuminated the vacant train. So alone.

The moon's still shining presence overlooked the buildings below. He rested his hand on his forehead, listening the rumbling, the rattling, and most of all the silence afterwards. Grimmjow lay there on a bed too small for his form, thin bed sheets covering the lower half of his body, for in this Summer heat, no one would want the plush, thicker sheets used in Winter on them. They'd die from suffocating warmth.

He turned over, facing the window, the train no longer blocking his view of the darkened city below. It wasn't much of a view from where he lived. No, not much of a view at all. The structures were all the same. The streets weren't anything to be proud of. They were cracked and they had numerous potholes. Perhaps the graffiti was something to look at, but the murals were spray painted on by the small time crooks or by street gangsters marking their territory.

The male never quite understood how no one ever even rustled from the sound of the El. It was so loud! Did they just ignore it? That was incomprehensible. No one could ever drown out a sound like that. Maybe the residents had gotten used to it. Maybe their bodies developed some kind of adaption to the sound. Like…they went deaf in the middle of the night or something. Maybe-  
A loud bang from the wall left of his bed interrupted his trail of thought.

Or maybe they never went to sleep in the first place.  
"You disgusting b-" Came a muffled sound from between the walls. His ears were still ringing from the El. How he could still hear the distinct sounds was beyond him.

A crash. And then a woman's feral scream. Another fight, he thought. It was common. He was used to it. Used to those kinds of things, but not the damn El. It kind of bothered him that he could tune the arguments out but not the train. Sometimes, Grimmjow wanted to just burst through the door and stop the fighting. But he never quite had the courage. Why? Because this always happened. And if he did one day stop making a coward of himself, Grimmjow would probably just end up interrupting their little fighting ceremonies. Yeah, ceremonies, because by the time he'd stop hesitating, the two people next door would be so used to the way things were that not accomplishing their argumentative task would be considered blasphemy.

He sighed, glancing at the clock on his night stand. Twenty-seven minutes had flow by and Grimmjow knew he wasn't going back to sleep. He wouldn't be able to fall asleep. He threw the faded light blue sheets to the side, and peeled himself off the bed. Another early day for work.  
He sat at the edge, rubbing the drowsiness off his face. Standing, he cracked his joints as he stretched his stiff body.

From here, it was all routine. Strict routine.

Grimmjow took fifteen steps to his compressed room of a bathroom, flicked on the light, the bulb flickering three times before it made a stable illumination of the tiled floor. The seventh one down from the sink was cracked in three places. On the bottom left corner, a small chip in the middle shaped like a diamond, and a line that went completely across the bottom. The sink itself was shaped like a seashell, but the shower door had a large peacock looking Grimmjow straight in the eye every time he showered. That was probably the most unnerving thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

Turning the cold water on, Grimmjow grabbed his toothbrush from the edge of the sink, wetting the bristles underneath the running water. Then he grabbed the full tube of whitening toothpaste, removing the tip of the toothpaste with his thumb, then proceeding to squeeze some on to his toothbrush. He did that because this place had cockroaches and he was becoming somewhat paranoid of them laying eggs inside the tube after watching a report on the mutating creatures. Apparently, specimens had been used as test subjects for a new chemical for some company, but the reporters did not say who.

After he was done cleaning the morning out of his mouth, he spit, rinsed and washed the toothbrush of the toothpaste foam, placing it back on its rightful perch. Grimmjow turned clockwise to face the opposite side of his bathroom, where the mirror was stationed. It was quite inconvenient to have the mirror on the opposite side of the sink. Why couldn't it be in front of it? Well, because the landlord thought it would clash with the way the peacock was on the shower door. He opened the small cabinet underneath the mirror and grabbed a turquoise towel, setting it on top. Sometimes he wished he was one of those people who could shower and brush his teeth at the same time to save those extra five minutes, but then he realized that the El Train saved him about four hours anyway, so he didn't need it.

Stripped down to his bare nekkid form, he turned on the hot water, no cold at all, and stepped in the shower, door rattling closed behind him. The steaming water was enough to relax his stiff muscles from the bad sleep. Lately, he'd been having nightmares of being watched and followed, but every time he'd get close to seeing his stalker, Grimmjow would wake up.

The male reached over to grab the bottle of Dove shampoo. It kept his hair soft. He poured a generous amount in his palm, and like the back of the bottle said, lathered, rinsed and repeated, until he felt he was clean enough.

Finally, he was done with his hot, morning shower and turned off the running water, not daring to look over at the peeping peacock.

Grimmjow stood there, letting the steam embrace him, water dripping from every extense of his body. He could hear the drain swallowing up the excess water. He blew out a heavy breath and opened the door, the steam walking out with him. Grabbing the towel from where he had left it, the male dried off, then wrapped it around his waist.

He walked out of his claustrophobic bathroom, meeting the cool air difference of the room next to it. The clock on the night stand now read two minutes past five. Plenty of time to get dressed, make the disaster he was forced to call breakfast, and walk to his job.

Walking seventeen steps to his dresser, Grimmjow pulled out casual white tee, and some jeans, also what he called work clothes, since his boss didn't give a shit about what he wore, as long as he wore something. The guy was like the honey badger.  
Putting on his attire, underwear accounted for of course, he walked twenty steps to his kitchen, where a fridge and a small stove greeted him. He opened the right handed refrigerator door, leaning down to poke his head in and see what was in there.

Eggs.

He blinked at the lone carton of eggs sitting there like the chicken that laid them. Next to them was a half gallon of milk that read "Best by July 31st". Well, a good source of protein was a good source of protein. He pulled out both items out and slid them on the round table with a mismatched chair. Grimmjow turned the electric stove's knob, setting the heat at a medium temperature and pulling a pan from the pantry, along with the oil so the egg wouldn't stick.

After about eight minutes, the blue-haired male grabbed a square plate from somewhere and the spatula he used to scramble the egg, he scooped the food off the bottom of the pan, and set it center plate. Grimmjow grabbed a spoon, a cup for his milk, and a packet of ketchup that was left over from when he bought McDonald's last week. Finally, the guy could sit down and eat his meal.

He sat across from the table, facing the window, chair scraping across the floor as he adjusted the chair the way he liked it. Between his fingers, he tore the edge off the small pouch of ketchup and squeezed a smiley face on the egg, something he never quite outgrew, probably because the person who used to sit across from him always did it too…

The last glass of milk was poured and he began digging into his breakfast. From where he sat, Grimmjow could see the still pitch black sky outside, the stars twinkling mischievously in the light years' distance. He never took long enough eating to watch the sunrise. Always finishing his food before the sky even brightened.

The metal spoon scraped the empty plate, notifying Grimmjow he was done eating. The male gulped down his milk and stood to leave the dishes in the sink. He'd wash them when he came back.

Taking one last look at his apartment, Grimmjow slipped on his shoes at the doorway, along with some clean socks he always kept next to his scuffed Original Converse. He grabbed his lone key from a hook on the door, directly underneath the peep hole and set out.

The apartment hall was still dark, save for the occasional lamp in the vicinity that illuminated early riser's steps. Inserting the key into the lock, he turned and was ready to leave his home unattended. He began his quiet journey down the hall, trying not to disturb the sleeping residents. His noisy neighbors had probably begun to feel the effects of morning and set to sleep, as the sounds had ceased.

His steps padded on the carpet and Grimmjow reached the stairwell. During mornings he took the stairs since the elevator creaked and groaned loudly every time he rode it. The jog downstairs was a good work out anyway. Made his legs wake up by the time he reached the first floor, where the landlord lived, and Grimmjow had accustomed to seeing him every morning since he moved here.

"Hello, Grimmjow," came a soft baritone voice when he reached the bottom steps. Grimmjow stiffened and turned to greet the owner of the apartments. Every time he saw him, Grimmjow wondered how the guy always looked _exactly_ the same. His hair in the sleek bob that was never out of place and sometimes he looked like he was wearing very thick mascara of some sort. And those feather sticking out of his eye. What the hell?

He'd figured out a long time ago the dude was gay.

"Er, hey," he said uncomfortably, avoiding the other's gaze. The guy always seemed to make a move on him if they ever made eye contact.

"Out to work?" he asked, smiling.

"Like always." Grimmjow grunted in response. Yumichika, the landlord, inquired him with identical question every morning. It's like he thought Grimmjow would one day say "No, I came to see you Yumichika. And now, I sweep you off your feet and go make love to you!"  
Nope, not gonna happen.

"Oh, well, " Yumichika sighed, brushing back a strand of hair behind his ear with a slender finger. He looked disappointed like this was the first time he'd ever been turned down. "I guess a young man like you has to do unbeautiful things to survive."

Grimmjow nodded, itching to leave.

"Well, have a good day," he waved and Grimmjow was glad their encounters were shortening every time they met.

He walked out into the coming morning. It was breezy, but the heat of Summer still lingered, waiting to appear at the sun's command.

Grimmjow set his usual course North, to the center of the city. From the many times he walked this path, most of the time he ignored his surroundings since he already knew them by heart. But today, he felt a little different, somehow intrigued by the complacency of the world. All around, terrible things were happening. He thrived on the lone entertainment of the news, not able to afford cable on the salary of a dead end job and not having a college education. Hunger, famine, homelessness, drought, and the world still rotated, inventing new ways to clog the arteries of humans, or new ways to burn the brains of children. But maybe that's what they deserved. To be self condemned for their selfishness.

He shook his head of those thoughts. He shouldn't think like that. Who was he, a person who did not even matter? He was the same as the mass striving to self destruction. Instead, he focused on his usual path, cracked sidewalk and all, dark overlooking buildings empty, ready for clearing. He had never counted the steps to work, but today it might just be the day to do that, to take his mind off the sudden philosophical—perceptive—whatever thoughts that wiggled their way into his brain.

Thousands of steps later, losing count somewhere in the ten thousands, Grimmjow looked up to see the rising orange sun, making the windows of the central buildings glitter in yellows and tangerines. Not much more and he'd reach the central of the city; the center of Souls City.

Instead, he looked up to see the tall edifice that read "Stark's Stark Delivery". Grimmjow never knew why the guy had decided to name his business something so bizarre, and every time he asked, the guy just shrugged lazily and replied, "Sounded catchy."

Grimmjow headed into his job greeting the same light green haired girl at reception, who smiled cheerily at seeing him, yet gave irritated looks at anyone else this early. Well, only one person. That person being her older brother.

"Hi, Grimmjow!"she smiled, cheeks almost looking pained with such a wide grin.

"Yo, Lily, where's Stark?"He high fived the runt and turned around trying to spot the lazy brunette.

"Sleeping, still." She grumbled.

"Still?" He looked at the clock and saw it was half past six. The usual time he got here.

"Yeah, you always get here too early, Grimmjow." She crossed her arms. "We haven't even opened yet."

"The why the fu—why are up?"

She shook her head, hiding a pink blush that was creeping on her cheeks, "Stark's out back! And I'll tell him you almost said a bad word!" Lilynette huffed and spinned in the rolling chair, facing away from Grimmjow.

He concluded the kid was bipolar.

Grimmjow headed to the boss's office, not that he's ever called him boss. He didn't bother knocking and pushed the wooden door open with the palm of his hand. In the center of the room was a black wooden desk, stacked with two filed folders, and a few packages on the floor. A shaggy brunette was leaned back in his chair, legs propped up on the desk. The guy loved his sleep, but Grimmjow was restless when not doing anything. He crept up to the desk, eyeing Stark, lazing away the waking morning. Grimmjow grinned. A devilish kind of grin spreading on his face. Stark was so helpless right now.

He stalked closer, leaning next to the other's ear. The brunette hadn't moved, nor rustled in his sleep. Grimmjow almost gave himself away by not being able to stifle his evil chuckle. He had to cover his mouth with his arm, to stop his laughter from slipping out. After he calmed down the cackling demon inside, he again lowered his mouth to Stark's ear.

"Stark," he whispered. Stark didn't move.  
"Stark," he said it louder. Stark just grunted in his sleep, "Mmn, wha-?" The lids of his eyes were starting to move, and that's when Grimmjow took the opportunity.

"WAKE THE FUCK UP, YOU LAZY BASTARD!"

Brown eyes snapped open, feet sliding off the edge of the table, knocking over some sheets of paper. Stark looked like he was in a state of shock, which the guy probably was, considering he has just been yelled at while he was in the teetering edge between awake and dreaming.

Light running steps were heard, approaching the room. It was Lilynette who burst in through the open door, "What's going on?!" She looked just as alarmed as Stark.

She just saw Grimmjow laughing his ass off in one end of the room and Stark looking annoyed, trying to rub the misery away from his demeanor. And from there, she just put two and two together making fish, or in this case forming Grimmjow and Stark. She rolled her pink eyes and walked out of the room like it was a waste of time walking over here and worrying in the first place.

Grimmjow was still cracking up, and Stark was looking … sleepy, blankly staring at the blue haired, makeshift alarm clock.

Once Grimmjow ceased his laughter, Stark said plainly, "I should fire you for that," and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

"You should, but you won't." Grimmjow remarked back, smirking.

A pause and Stark sat back up, leaning his elbow against the table, resting his chin on his hand. "You're right. It would be a—"  
"A pain hiring someone else." Grimmjow finished for him.

Stark sighed, and pointed behind him with his thumb, where two stacks of three boxes leaned against the grey-blue wall.  
"That's it?" Grimmjow asked puzzled. Usually there were at least twenty boxes that he'd make numerous round trips for during the day to deliver.

"That's it." Stark drawled.

"Why so little?" The blue haired male ambled over to pick up the six boxes, each the identical volume. Each the same estimated weight too, and all marked for the same destination.

Stark shrugged, blinking his blue-gray eyes.

Grimmjow picked up all six packages. He read the label to where it was destined to. "Why the fuck are they using us to deliver? This is a huge company."

Again, Stark seemed lost in thought. "Less known, less traceable."

"So, there's some kind of illegal shit in this or something?"

"Maybe."  
Grimmjow seemed to not follow Stark's logic here, if any. If there really was something of illegal status inside these fourteen by ten by six boxes, then shouldn't they _not _be delivering?

"They're paying large sum, and we don't know for a fact that it is dangerous." Stark commented, as if reading Grimmjow's mind.

After a brief pause, then Grimmjow tore his eyes away from the label on the box, "By what time?"

"Twelve in the afternoon." Stark leaned back in his chair and it squeaked. "And don't dawdle. I'm your boss so you have to listen to me." He smirked and Grimmjow smirked back.

"Whatever you say, _boss_."

* * *

**Yep, first fic. Nope, not new to writing. It had been swimming in my head for a while now, and after an energy drink and some coconut cookies, I wrote this guy up. Well, somewhere along the middle I got sidetracked with Pandora and started singing to Limp Bizkit.  
Anywho, I had to cut this into two because if I hadn't, it would be too long to be considered a chapter.**

**So, uhm….yeah. I'm firetrap.  
And welcome to Jacka—**

**And I have no idea what I've gotten myself into. D:**


	2. Small Encounters

**2. Small Encounters**

It was now seven and _Stark's Stark Delivery _was now officially open for business. For the four years Grimmjow had worked there, one being during his last year in high school, he knew he _shouldn't_ dawdle and deliver the packages as fast as possible, since deliveries usually piled on during the more alert hours of the day. First he would take these to that big company over at the center of the city. The building would be hard to miss. Even if he didn't have a map, he would always know where it was. Also, he'd been living in Soul City for as long as he could remember. It would be a sin to not memorize the streets he grew up in, driving around when he was younger with his dad. That, and it came with the job description, sort of.

With the packages strapped down in the basket on the front of the bike, he set off to _Sakura Co._ There were small delivery cars that Stark had to use for the employees, but both Stark and Grimmjow knew those things were inconvenient during rush hour.

He looked at the digital wrist watch strapped on his left wrist while peddling. It read five past seven, and Grimmjow was now quite a ways away from the delivery building. He rounded a couple of corners, many of the coffee and donut shops slowly being filled with customers. Sometimes, he'd make a stop after a delivery, but today he was going to make one before. After all, there was five entire hours for the package to be delivered.

Grimmjow squeezed the hand break, and stopped at the sweets shop, a red neon sign now flickering "Open". From the side of the bike, he took the white messenger bag, shoving in all the boxes neatly, so they would all fit. No use in leaving them out here, unattended, else he would see the end of his employed days, and Stark's angry face.

He walked into the shop, the smell of coffee warming his senses, and stirring the hungry monster in his gut. At the cashier was a lone person, with auburn hair, dozing.

The girl was startled awake by the chime of the bell on the door. "Eh?"

She looked around with those wide doe eyes of hers, oblivious to the customer until Grimmjow started walking up to her.

"G-Grimmjuh!" she said, smile appearing on her face. The girl always said his name with an accent; she was from another part of the country or something.

"Yo, Orihime!" He raised his hand lazily to wave a good morning to her. Orihime was always too happy for some reason and her bubbly personality seemed to somehow make Grimmjow smile. Not that he would ever say that.

"How's your brother?"

Her gaze faltered for the slightest second, but then her smile was back, full force. "He's doing better! The doctors said that he was recovering quickly from the accident."

Something wasn't quite right with that sentence, but Grimmjow let it go, looking up at the menu. From the corner of his eye, he could see Orihime trying to keep the smile on her face. It looked so... off.

"Same." He told the red head and she nodded, going behind her to get brown bag. With plastic gloved hands, she reached into the display case, retrieving a pink cake pastry, wrapping it in wax paper and setting it in the bag. Out of all the chocolate delicacies, sugar coated breads, fruit topped cakes, Grimmjow always chose the red velvet cupcake with pink cream cheese frosting. Today was obviously no different. Orihime smiled as she handed the bag to the blue haired male and removed her gloves, retreating to the back to grab a paper cup. While she was busy filling the cup with fresh brewed coffee, Grimmjow reached in the bag and pulled out his cupcake, despite not having washed his hands, and took a bite out of it.  
And these taste was exactly why he always ordered the cupcake. If he were to describe the taste in his mouth, Grimmjow would describe it as a giant fire truck full of sugar crashing onto his tongue. However, that would kill him, and if he kept eating these kinds of foods for the rest of his life, they would kill him too.

The orange-headed girl turned around in the process of placing the lid on the coffee. She giggled, seeing the other stuff his face.  
"What?" Grimmjow frowned, talking between chews.  
"Your face!" She gasped, placing the coffee on the counter so she wouldn't drop it.

After knowing her for a while, Grimmjow concluded that the girl was odd, and laughed at the most ridiculous things. He just gave her an amused look and finished his bite, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, only to feel that it wasn't there. "Shit."

"Hm?" She finally managed to stop her giggles.  
"I don't have my wallet." Grimmjow admitted and he thought she'd make him cough up that chunk of cake. But the girl was too nice to take back his food.

"That's okay. You can pay me tomorrow."  
Grimmjow secretly thanked Kami for the girl's generosity. "Your boss won't get mad?"  
She shook her head.

"Thanks."

With that he took the cup off the counter and put his cupcake back in the bag, exiting the bakery.  
"Bye!" he heard her shout and he just nodded a goodbye to her.

* * *

After eating his second breakfast during the bike ride, and hastily drinking the piping hot beverage, all while zigzagging the crowding streets, scorching his tongue in the process, Grimmjow reached the magnificent structure of a building. "Sakura Co." in manly pink letters, just as manly as the pastry he had downed not too long ago. Grimmjow had to admit, he was a little intimidated by the grandness that the structure radiated. It's was like the ground it was built upon was reserved only for the suited workers there.

He screeched to a stop at the main door, steps leading up to the glass doors looking much bigger up close. There seemed to be no blatant security anywhere so…

He pulled the packages off the grill, dumping them in the white messenger bag, stomping up the steps. Seriously, the things must have been two feet tall.

When reaching the doors, he extended an arm to the silver handle.

An electric shock shot up his arm all the way to his shoulder.  
Quickly, he pulled his arm away, startled by the feeling. Were these things electrified for security or something? Grimmjow inspected his hand to see if there was any damage, opening and closing it checking if it still functioned.

A woman that looked like she worked at the company was walking up the steps in wicked looking heels. Grimmjow watched her to see if she had some sort of key card or password to stop the door from electrocuting her.

The black haired female simply reached out, pulling on the handle and walked inside.

What the hell?

Grimmjow stared at the door's handle like it was about to tell him the secret to opening. He decided to try it again, it was his job to get in that place and didn't have much of a choice. Wary of what he was doing, for fear of feeling the pain up his arm again, he touched the handle, bracing himself for the shock, but it never came. He was a little relieved, well very relieved that it didn't happen again, but at the same time heavily confused. What had that been?

With the white bag hoisted across his frame, the blue haired male entered the building, the cool air blasting him squared in the face, almost knocking him off balance. He regained his composure, for fear of looking like a fool, his eyes adjusting to the too bright white lights and sparkling interior. This was so alien to him.

Around him, guys in suits were talking on the phones, others into the bluetooth speakers, making them look like complete assholes talking to themselves. Women speaking in some language about economics with too red lipstick and manicured nails were strewn across just the first floor.

Where the fuck was the reception area? He was standing there gaping like an idiot!

"Um, excuse me." A timid voice from somewhere.

"Mister…Blue hair." Grimmjow tried to locate the source of the voice, finally realizing him it was coming from behind the desk over that way.

Behind the moon shaped mahogany desk was a mousy looking girl, hair tied up in a bun. Her eyes were wide and dark, her petite figure was noticeable even though she was sitting down.

He walked over to her, already slipping out the deliver notice to hand over.

"Do you have an appo—"she began but Grimmjow cut her off when waving the slip of paper for her to see.

"I'm here to deliver a package."

For some reason, that made her nervous, as she shuffled around, picking up papers and sheets, like she was looking for something. "Ah, please hold on a moment!"

Her small hands picked up the phone dialing three numbers, placing it to her hear. She smiled nervously at Grimmjow while the other line rang.

"Hisagi-san!" she said into the phone, "Someone is here to deliver the packages, has Kira-san shown up?"

Grimmjow focused his attention to the arrangement of flowers on the desk while she spoke into the phone.

"I see. Okay," she hung up and bowed at Grimmjow. "I'm sorry sir, the person who would usually take the packages from you is absent at this moment. Would you please kindly deliver them to room—"she stopped and scribbled a hasty number on a sticky note, handing it over to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow stared at it. "What?"

That seemed to make her more nervous. "Please, that package is very important." She was still bowed.

"Why the fu—why can't I just leave them with you?"

She straightened, eyes widening when she heard the beginning of Grimmjow's swear.

"Well, um, you see—"She shifted her gaze to the ground.

Jesus, could a girl get any more nervous? How had she managed to get a job at _reception_? Looking at her fiddle around like that just pissed him off.

He growled, "Fine," and snatched the post it from her.

The woman bowed even lower, "Thank you, Mister…?" She gazed up at him like if staring at Grimmjow long enough she would be able to guess his name.

Grimmjow, however, was busy trying to figure out where the hell he was supposed to go. He'd never even stepped close to _Sakura Co_, much less having been in it.

"Ano, Mister…?"  
"Huh?" Blue eyes finally shot her an acknowledging look. "Uh, Grimmjow."

"Thank you, Grimmjow-sama."

* * *

He was definitely lost. Grimmjow looked left, right, hell, even up deciphering the map on the back of the yellow square slip of paper that Momo, which happened to be the name of the receptionist, illustrated for him.

Everywhere he turned, it looked exactly the same as where he had previously been before. _Exactly_. Down to the square cherry wood table with the Vague, Peeple, and Entertaintment magazines stacked on top.

He brought the post it to his eyes. Nope, no hidden messages.

"Agh!" he groaned, almost sounding like some kind of roar. This place was like a maze.

Grimmjow crumpled up the piece of paper in his left hand and shoved it violently in his front jean pocket. He hoisted the strap of the messenger bag higher on his shoulder setting off straight in a random direction. The "map" wasn't proving to be useful and mindlessly wandering was either going to get him to his destination or make him more lost, forever not to be found until nightfall by probably a janitor.

He took a left to the end of the hallway, almost bumping into a laughing woman wearing a white lab coat, talking on the phone.  
"Shit, sorry." He moved out of her way, and she kept walking like Grimmjow didn't even exist. "Hey, hold on, I need to find –er—" Grimmjow patted his pockets to retrieve the post it, but by the time he did, the purple haired woman was rounding the corner, her obnoxious laugh echoing.

"Ne, Kisuke. When are they going to get here?" was the last thing Grimmjow heard before the ding of an elevator and another jeering laugh.

He ran a hand through his own blue locks and set off in the direction he was going. The crumpled up sheet of paper only giving him the clue _R.A.D. 12_, in cursive, but that was proving to be useless information, unless he knew the exact layout of the company.

He looked at his watch, the digital numbers reading three until eight. He'd been lost inside the building for about twenty minutes now and hadn't picked up a clue about where he was or where he was going. Somewhere, he developed the bright idea to walk back to reception and ask Momo where the hell _R.A.D. 12 _was, but his pride was a difficult thing to persuade. Plus, he had no idea where the stairs were, or where he had last seen an elevator.

Grimmjow kept marching, making it seem like he knew what he was doing. He didn't want the security cameras catching him on film looking totally lost, so he kept his chin up and looked straight ahead.

After about ten additional minutes of mindless walking, Grimmjow found a door. A silver door. An elevator door and it was the most magnificent thing he'd laid his blue eyes on. Kami was watching him.

He pressed the button with the arrow pointing up and waited.

Finally, the door chimed open, and to add to his luck, it was empty. This way he could press all the buttons and check all the floors.

He stepped inside, the doors only half way open. He rotated his body only to see… that there were sixty floors.

Fuck.

He wanted to scream, thrash around in the elevator, and maybe blow up the door that had now closed.

Grimmjow decided to compromise by punching the buttons, about four getting smashed in the process. That let out some steam _and_ allowed him to visit 1/15th of the entire building.

He waited in the center of the elevator and his stomach lurched when the elevator began its journey to floor thirty. It was a slow process, since he had only been on the sixth floor when he boarded. The trip came to an abrupt stop, his body adjusting to the movement quickly. The doors dinged again to Grimmjow's dread.

About seven business people all chattering away on their identical cell phones and crisp, clean black suits, entered the elevator with him, barricading any way out for him.

Goddammit.

He tried to give the people small hints that he wanted out, elbowing them or coughing loudly, but none even acknowledged him. Fuckers.

Instead of snapping on everybody and destroying everything around him like he was currently imagining in his head, Grimmjow took three deep breaths. That was a horrible mistake when he was squished between two guys that smelled like they had had a bad lunch and went to the bathroom soon after. Luckily, the doors slid open when reaching the thirty-sixth floor and he made sure to position himself in the center of the crowd to follow them out.

He breathed in fresher air, and the swarm of business people he had been incased in dispersed in differing directions. He was alone again, but continued his quest anyway.

The blue haired male walked through the identical halls. He had not met any more people, and they only seemed to appear near the elevators. About eight minutes had gone by and he was (or thought he had) finished exploring the thirty-sixth floor. He'd been pleading with his pride, and it finally gave in, Grimmjow deciding to just go back and ask Momo for more _intricate_ directions.

He sighed heading back the way he came only to be halted by a man in a black suit. He had a stern gaze on Grimmjow, the grey eyes boring into him. He was about his height, but the way he presented himself was another story. His shoulder length black hair was pulled back with white headpieces. "Who are you?" He asked in an authoritative voice.  
"I came to deliver this." Grimmjow gestured to the six boxes inside the white messenger bag.

"I asked who you are not what you came to do." The business man's face was stoic.

The heat went to Grimmjow's face. No one had ever even spoken to him in that sort of stern voice since four years ago. It was kind of embarrassing being chastised by someone who looked his age.

"Grimmjow…Jaegerjaquez."

"State your business, Mister Jaegerjaquez."

"I'm kind of …lost." He rubbed his arm.

"You seem to have a problem with your hearing as well. I shall repeat myself once again in order for you to hear my question without any qualms; what is your business?"

Fuck. This guy was starting to make him feel like a moron. "I came to deliver a package—six actually. The receptionist asked me to go to room _R.A.D. 12 _and deliver it personally." Grimmjow waited.

The business man's face was still apathetic and Grimmjow was suffocating under the awkward atmosphere.

"You are on the wrong floor, Mister Jaegerjaquez. The Research and Development Department is on the fifty-fifth floor, room twelve. If you are to walk around mindlessly, I suggest you do it outside instead of in my building. And I shall have a word with my receptionist to keep any stray monkeys from entering this floor." He brushed past Grimmjow whom was glued to his spot. He wasn't sure if he had just been insulted or helped. And did he say '_my building_'? That guy was…?  
Grimmjow whirled around on his heel, but the business man had already disappeared from view.

Well, it was both a good and a bad thing that he had left.

Now that he knew where he was going, Grimmjow had begun walking with more confident steps.

He was now on floor fifty-five, weaving in and out of much differentiated halls. This place was like an entire world in itself. Nothing like the previous floor that shouted ethic and elegance. No, floor fifty-five screamed something along the lines of "Science! Science! Science! Throw everything on the floor and leave markings!" There were small bottles of specimens decorating bookshelves that were haphazardly placed in the middle of the floor, an aqua colored hose in the corner of a hall that branched off to an exit. Grimmjow noticed that there were about thirty fire extinguisher mounts, half of them gone.

When he was stepped over a sleeping bag, empty at the moment, a door with the number labeled as fifteen, an orange haired youngster walked out, half his face coated in soot.

Besides that, he had the brownest eyes possible. Grimmjow tripped half way over the sleeping bag, able to catch himself by making a very large and odd jump.

The orange haired male flinched around, his eyes wide. He almost dropped the red fire extinguisher that he had come to retrieve.

Both males just kind of stared at each other in silence before the door to room fifteen creaked open, a large buffoon of a man with his coat on fire wailing around. "The fire extinguisher! The fire extinguisher!" He yelled.

Grimmjow looked in between the orange haired male and the guy flailing around the room. He was pretty freaked that someone was on fire in front of him and the one with the fire extinguisher was merely standing, looking annoyed as the helpless man yelled frantically.  
"The fuck you standing there for! Put him out!" Grimmjow shouted, hurrying over to the man.

The grown man with a stubby beard, kept yelling "My son won't help me! Masaki!"

The orange headed male face palmed and when the black haired male ran at him, and instead of putting the fire out, he hit him with the butt of the extinguisher. "Shut up."

The man was now twitching on the floor.

"What the fuck?" Grimmjow said disbelieving as the red-head finally decided to put the fire out.

"He always does that. The coat is fire proof. It won't spread from the initial spot."

"He could've set the building on fire!"

"Not this floor."

The door to room eleven opened and a guy with blue hair and a painted face scowled at them. "Keep that barbarian in check. It's a disgrace to the department. And us scientists who are working would like some peace and qui—"

"Eh?!" Room twelve slammed its door open, hitting the wall. "Oh, Isshin! How did that coat work out?" It was a blonde guy with shaggy hair almost covering his face.

These guys were getting creepier by the second. A pyro, a clown, and a guy looking like he had just smoked pot.

"Ne, who is it, Kisuke?" A familiar sounding voice asked.

Kisuke, who happened to be the blonde, answered back, "Oh, nothing. Isshin was just trying out the fire proof lab coat! Haha~!"

"Will you all _please_ shut up!" The clown looked like he was about to burst a vein.

"Calm down, Mayuri. I can install some sound proof walls for you." Kisuke said.

"_I _can do that too! And at a much faster and better pace than you!" With that, Mayuri's door slammed shut, leaving only the non-clowns to stare at each other.

Isshin, the black haired male that had caught fire twitched on the floor and sprang back up onto his feet.

"Ichigo! Why didn't you help daddy!?" Isshin wailed, throwing himself at his son for a hug.

Ichigo extended his leg out and landed a hit to the bearded chin, "Because you didn't help me when my hair set on fire!"

The man rolled away, sobbing obnoxiously leaving a fuming son to stand there, trying to calm himself.

Grimmjow had been staring at the interaction between the two somewhat astonished. He hadn't even noticed the blonde, Kisuke creeping next to him. "Eto, who are you?" He felt a breath tickle his ear and threw a punch out of reflex.

Kisuke dodged, unfazed, waiting for an answer.

Tired of repeating the same line of "I'm here to deliver a package," Grimmjow simply pulled out a box from the bag strapped around his shoulder and handed it to Kisuke.

Kisuke took it in his hands reading the label. "I see." He commented darkly and Grimmjow was already thinking that he was going to tear open the cardboard lid to reveal drugs, sex, and rock n' roll, but Kisuke turned his back on him, walking in to room twelve.

He could hear muffled talking and then silence.

Blue eyes gazed to his left, where the orange haired male stood, staring back. He looked away quickly and entered back where he came, the black haired man already having done the same.

Loud cheering erupted and Kisuke walked back out followed by the same purple haired woman that Grimmjow had bumped into earlier.

"Ho? You're the new delivery boy? They made quite an upgrade." She commented flashing him a smile.

"No, I was jus—"  
"Well, then, let's have a look and see the rest of them!" the blonde interrupted.

What the hell was wrong with these people? They always seemed to interrupt the middle of people's sen—

The purple haired woman pulled out a box herself and sliced the tape holding the lids together in half with a sharp nail. She pulled the lids apart and pulled out—

"Soul Candy Pez dispensers!" The purple haired woman held one up like she was advertising for a commercial.

Pez dispensers.

The one in her hand was one of a duck, "Oh, look Kisuke. Yuki!" She squeezed down, and the duck quacked, spitting out a pink round piece of candy which landed in the woman's wide open mouth. She gulped it without chewing and let out a satisfied sigh.

Kisuke was also lost, one of a dog in his hand. "Pupples…" He was immersed in the candy.

Both of them were sitting cross legged on the floor now, fiddling over the candy dispensers and Grimmjow was busy trying not to slam them both in the wall for not signing the damn form that stated he had done his job.

"Chappy!" Kisuke cried, holding up a bunny.  
"Diana," one of a snake.

"Gringo!" a panda.

"Alfred!" a skull with a hat on.

They were showing them off to Grimmjow who was standing there, clearly showing them the sheet they had to sign, clearly showing that he wanted to leave, and clearly showing an uninterested face, but Kisuke and the purple haired woman laughed and were oblivious to him.

He cleared his throat, which happened to gain the attention of both of them. Finally.

"You need to sign." He tapped the paper with his finger.

The purple haired woman groaned and looked at the ceiling. She called him forward, crooking her finger.

Grimmjow stepped over the numerous objects on the floor, one being a tea kettle, and reached the woman who pulled out a pen from within her lab coat. She clicked it and snatched the paper from Grimmjow setting it on the floor to sign. The woman scribbled her signature in loopy cursive on the bottom line of the delivery notice, folded it into an airplane, and threw it to Grimmjow.

The paper plane glided in the air, and much like King Kong, Grimmjow batted it down and crushed it with his right hand.

Again, the woman bellowed her laughter, which was beginning to grow on him, however annoying.

He unfolded the origami paper plane to check if she had signed the in the right places. She did; _"Yoruichi Shihōin"_ was on the signature line.

He turned to leave, as his job was done, but the woman called to him, "Wait, what's your name?"

Everybody had been asking that all day.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

* * *

It was now eight at night and Grimmjow had delivered his last package for the day. He turned in all the signed delivery notices to Stark.

They were both eager for the work day to be done, Grimmjow having been right about incoming packages in the middle of the day. After he had delivered to Sakura Co., Yoruichi had told him he was now going to deliver personally to the department. She had rewarded him with a candy dispenser much to his surprise. They looked like they had coveted those things, yet handed out one like it hadn't meant anything in the first place.

Well it was just candy.

He said his goodbye to a sleeping Stark who just grunted, envy flashing in the blue-gray eyes when Grimmjow left and he was abandoned in a room, leaned over a giant pile of spreadsheets. Lilynette was twirling her hair sitting on the floor and reading a shoujo.

He exited the delivery service, beginning his walk back to his ratty apartment.

He could still feel the chill on his spine of someone watching him.

* * *

Up above, concealed in the darkness of the night, a figure stood overlooking the city next to the moon. His hands were behind his back, waiting, watching for the opportune moment.

Emerald green eyes followed the tiny dot of blue walking through the deserting streets.

So predictable.

The green eyes blinked mechanically, arms coming forward.

Behind him, black wings erupted, extending.

He had seen the opportunity.

"Finally," a melancholic voice whispered. "We can begin."

* * *

**Wah! I was so happy with my lone reviewer, thank you~! ;w;**  
**And I really would have wished the guys that faved/followed could have left a teeny tiny review, but oh well. OTL**  
**Anyways, Who is that irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for—no one. ._.**  
**We shall find out in the next chapter, but I'm sure you can tell who/what it is.**

**Also, I'm still not sure how fast I will be able to update. It was next-day update this time because I had about 1/3rd written yesterday, soo…yeah. I'm sure no one read this A/N. ;w;**


	3. Ordain

**Prepare yourselves. This chapter is much longer than the others.**

**3. Ordain**

Having finished washing the dishes left in the sink that morning, Grimmjow grabbed a bowl from the pantry and the cereal off the edge of the counter. He poured a generous amount into the ceramic container and walked to his fridge. He hadn't eaten all day, save for the egg in the morning, the cupcake from the bakery, and a light cheeseburger lunch during the afternoon. He pulled the door open, about to reach in for the milk but stopped half way.

There was no milk.

He blinked hoping that maybe he had missed seeing it, but there was definitely no mistaking the absence of the milk. After all, his fridge was horribly bare. Grimmjow sucked his teeth and instead of punching the refrigerator, he calmly pulled out a lone can of store brand cola.

He grabbed his bowl of dry cereal off the counter and walked to his worn out sofa. For about five minutes, the blue haired male sat there in silence, eating the corn flakes, the cold can held between his knees.

He looked left; the remote perched on the arm of the couch. He placed the can on the floor and reached over to grab it, spilling some cereal in the process.  
"Dammit." Grimmjow looked down to see the spilled food. He grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. While the picture came on, he swept the flakes off the leather cushions and back into the bowl.

The female reporter began to speak:

"…_and still no word from the company that released the mad outbreak on the mutating creatures. Reporter Ann Brown tried to have a word with the CEO of the company, but they refused to give out any details or clues on why or how the specimens broke out. Biologists have studied one of the specimens, but have not found any danger in them. Still, since these are genetically enhanced, they still advise for the public to re…"_

Something squeaked.

Grimmjow, craned his neck, stopping his menial task of picking up cereal. He paused, his blue eyes darting from corner to corner to try and spot the source of the noise.

The woman's voice was in the background, bringing Grimmjow back to the present.

"…_the weather report with our new weather girl...Thanks Jeanne. Well, today was a sunny…"  
_Grimmjow finished cleaning the corn flakes up. He was kind of thankful, for once, that there wasn't any milk; else, there would be a giant stain on the leather, plus the lingering smell. He pushed himself off the couch, the cushions rubbing against each other when he did so. As he walked, he looked down at the dry flakes. Well, that had been a waste of food. Of course, he could still eat them—

Behind him, a loud bang sounded, the startling noise making him whip his head around.

Fuck. What the hell had that been? His neighbors had never had such a loud fight. He gripped the bowl tighter in his clammy hands.

In the back of his mind, Grimmjow kept remembering flashes of horror scenes from movie he had watched. Right now he really wished his mind would just shut up and stop putting those images in his head.

The male placed the cereal bowl on the edge of the counter, bracing his arms on either side of it. Blue eyes stared down at the dry food. He shut his eyes, hands clenching into tight fists.

The news droned on, _"..ccident where two passengers died and left the four year old in a coma. More reports on that when we get an update."_

He clenched his teeth. _"Fire on the 67 part of town, destroying the entire apartment complex leaving 52 homeless to vacate the homeless shelters."_

A light breeze brushed his face, making the blue haired man snap out of his thoughts. He blinked, brushing the loose strands of hair out of his face. Breeze?

Grimmjow looked in the direction of his living room, past his bed and at the window. Its doors were swinging slowly, and if he heard carefully, the hinges squeaked.

He hadn't opened the window today. Actually, Grimmjow didn't remember a time when he actually opened it at all.

The male stood there, rooted to his kitchen floor. No one was here, he was sure of that. His apartment was small enough that he would always know when anyone other than himself was here. This was the sixth floor, and nobody was agile enough to climb up here unless you were an Olympian or a rat. The fire escape stairs could only be climbed down, as in; the escapee was the one that slid them from their post.

A monster of a noise suddenly assaulted his ears, making his entire head ring with the unbearable sound.

It was the El launching past the tracks near his window. The wind being strong enough from that distance to shake the glass doors. Now that the hook wasn't holding them closed, the doors swung wildly on the walls, banging and clattering furiously.

He darted forward, one hand cover his ear to lessen the sound. If he didn't do anything now, the glass would shatter, sending the tiny broken shards into the room or down below.

With a tan skinned arm, Grimmjow reached forward and grabbed hold of the right door. The left was proving to be more difficult. Whenever he thought he had it, his fingers closed around air.

The train continued its loud path.

He almost had it.

The last car flashed by, leaving the wind calm and Grimmjow finally able to grasp hold of the glass, shutting the window.

He panted, resting his forehead against the wall.

But then he heard it again.

The subtle drumming of the rails. The nearing whooshing sound of the wind.

The male pushed himself off the wall, pressing his face against the glass, watching the outside. There were bright lights illuminating the tracks directly in front. And from the looks of it, they were moving closer and closer.

Before the astonishing level of noise could drown out the news, Grimmjow managed to hear the woman begin to speak in an urgent tone, _"…And from the mass transit rail system, we have received a report that three elevated transit systems, better known as El trains, have gone off course. The three trains are headed to the same destination course. The control managers cannot get a hold of them…"_

The train roared past.

And the lights went out.

Grimmjow stood in the darkness, air stuck in his throat.

Three? Three trains?

The clock on his nightstand read half past nine, but Grimmjow hadn't even glanced back at it. Those Els weren't even on schedule.

Grimmjow could hear, feel the intense noise receding, only to be followed by a third identical sound. The thumping down the hall told him that residents here had also watched the news report. Before the third train could roar past, he could hear the hysteria from down below. He could hear the cries of women calling out to their lovers, who were most likely trapped on the out of control rails. He could hear the children weeping in their mothers' arms asking what was wrong. The little pets in the vicinity barking loudly, feeling the disturbance from their masters.

He could hear someone calling for someone to help. Someone to save them. Someone to bring their world back to them. To save their world. To save their happiness, their reason to love, live, laugh.

A hero.

He fell to his knees.

Grimmjow had never had a mother, his father having been the one that raised him since six years old. He had been an only child, his dad the only one he had ever had. His dad had been everything to him, The dearest person to him. Given everything to him.

His dad had been his world.

Grimmjow knew what it was like to lose your world. Down there, the people were crying out for help. A help that would never come because there was nothing the ones that were trying the best could do.

He clenched his fists. He was just a delivery boy. A lone human that could do nothing more than the ones below and watch. Watch as the world crumbled around into the ground and be withered by the winds of time, covered by a new history, with only painful memories to remember what had happened.

In his head, he wished he could do something.

But he knew wishing wouldn't ever solve anything.

His head was down, his knees were kissing the ground, like he was bowing, begging forgiveness from the gods above for being…human.

His arms were limp by his side. All he could do was wait.

"Do you really wish to make a difference?"

A cold shiver ran down his spine hearing an unnatural voice behind him. All current thoughts forgotten, the blue haired male twisted around, facing his unexpected visitor.

The green eyes stared back into his cerulean eyes, void of any emotion. They paralyzed him. All the suppressed memories came rushing back to him, suffocating Grimmjow. Making him gag under the intense pressure he felt from the green eyes being standing over him. He couldn't move a finger, nor blink, nor breathe.

The green eyed creature towered above him, or at least, that's what it felt like, looking down at Grimmjow's kneeling form.

It wasn't human.

The eyes were too green, like they were emerald gems themselves, scintillating even without light. It had onyx wings that looked like they enshrouded the room making it darker. The pure white attire matched its pale skin, and a horned helmet rested on its head.

The creature strode closer to Grimmjow, and all Grimmjow could do was watch, the energy from the black winged intruder rooting him in his place.

It did not wait for Grimmjow's answer, and it probably knew that the blue haired male would not be able to anyway.

"Do you really think someone like you could ever change anything?"

The El was still passing by.

"What can someone like you, a delivery boy ever accomplish in this _world_?"

Even if Grimmjow could not feel his body, he could feel the effects of the words. It was the exact same things he was thinking, the things he thought he deserved to be told. He knew they were true. He could not do anything. Never. Like a King without an army. He could want, but never accomplish.

The last car disappeared, only leaving the moon to illuminate the creature in his apartment.

The pained cries below were louder as the last glimpse of their lovers flashed by and left, leaving them alone in the chilly air of summer night.

The noises were the only thing Grimmjow could focus on. That and the stabbing words that this individual was saying.

"Who are you to place the burden upon yourself and save humans who were bound to succumb to death eventually?"

Grimmjow stared up at the pale face, his own eyes were unfocused and fuzzy, his lungs felt like they were breathing in bricks, and his body felt like it was immersed in cold water.

He parted his mouth, trying to form words to answer.

Those eyes were full of…something Grimmjow couldn't pin. They were looking down at him, like he was less than what he really was.

Blue eyes locked on emerald. He wasn't really sure what he was saying or if he really was looking at the intruder.

The immense feeling of pain, and fear seemed to dissipate and he felt like his voice was stronger. Full of resolve. He wasn't intimidated by this thing anymore. Who was _it to judge _Grimmjow_?_

Grimmjow answered him, even if his voice did crack, it wasn't because of fear, "Grimmjow…Jae- Jaegerjaquez." He breathed. " Who the f-fuck are you?" He panted, the air getting thicker by the second.

Deep green eyes stared, face like stone, contemplating Grimmjow's answer.

A quiet moment, where even the cries silenced down. Like the world was waiting for the next phase.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer." It whispered, teal streaks running down his cheeks.

And then Grimmjow was spitting blood.

Wide cerulean eyes glanced down.

A hand was impaled in his stomach, making a large hole in his abdomen.

He looked up at Ulquiorra, whose black lips were moving, staring at him. He was mumbling something that Grimmjow could not decipher.

Grimmjow swayed on his knees, the entire room beginning to spin around him. He was losing a hell of a lot of blood, right?

His head felt heavy, and it dropped down to watch the hand stabbing him. He couldn't comprehend it, the situation. No one…can just tear a hole into another person with just their hand.

The lids of his eyes were beginning to droop. He wanted to rest.

Ulquiorra spoke the last words of his chant, "…Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

The pale hand slid out of Grimmjow, a large black hole left, seeping a black liquid that was draining itself back into his body.

Grimmjow looked like he was catatonic, eyes looking past everything around him. Ulquiorra gazed down, green eyes scanned Grimmjow's unmoving body, looking for any signs of vital function. "Failure…" He said, voice sounding close disappointed. The black substance on Ulquiorra's hand dripped onto Grimmjow's floor and the cries outside were slowly rising in intensity.

He was silent, black lips pressing tighter into a line.

Then, the blue-haired male's body fell to the floor and Ulquiorra dropped the hand he had slid out of Grimmjow.

"You are human after all."

The black bat-like wings flapped, and Ulquiorra lifted his arm, pointing at the air. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a twitch, and halted his movements.

The boy had moved.

His green eyes glinted. There was still time left, wasn't there?

Again, he saw the twitch, this time in the arm. He was trying. Definitely putting up a struggle…

* * *

_After Ulquiorra Schiffer had punched a gaping hole in his abdomen, Grimmjow had blacked out, entering an unknown depth of his mind. He was face down in a swirling, purple darkness. In other words, he had no idea where the fuck he was and assumed it was in his mind's crevasses. He sat up and looked around remembering what had happened. He rapidly patted his stomach._

_His hand went right through. Grimmjow lifted his white tee, which was also ripped, revealing the perfect circle that had been left. He was not bleeding, nor did it hurt. There was no absolute way this was happening._

_Suddenly, a huge weight threw him across the space making his thoughts focus on it instead of trying to figure out the series of events._

_He landed face first in the swirling purple, quickly regaining his footing to face the attacker. Was it that Ulquiorra guy again?_

_Blue eyes sweeped the area, trying to spot where the assault came from._

_Nothing._

_Again, the male was abruptly thrown to another area of the purple space. He 'oomphed', and this time was slower to recover._

_Shit, what the fuck was that?_

_A heavy weight dropped on his back, making him momentarily lose the ability to breathe. He ordered his body to lift off the ground, but it wouldn't listen. His limbs shook whenever he tried to move them._

"_Fuck…" He winced, trying to stand up again. His body trembled when Grimmjow raised himself to his feet._

_The purple space was devoid of any other presence except his. He tried to spot something, anything that could clue him in to where the hell he was._

"_See with your mind and not your eyes. Shed any habit that you learned from the humans."_

_It was an echoing voice that surrounded him, and Grimmjow could not place the face nor the body of whom it came from. Was the owner of the voice the same one that was attacking him? He grew a bit more alert, clutching the arm that he had painfully landed on._

"_Who are you? Where am I?" he snarled, although more of basic instinct fearing for his life._

"_Fight." It commanded._

_Huh?_

_Again, the blue-haired male was thrown like a rag-doll, landing on his back this time, body creaking from the abuse whenever he tried to upright himself. _

_A force that felt like a giant hand pinned him down, compressing his upper body. His mouth parted to breathe, but all he could manage was gasp out the little air that was keeping him alive._

_Shit, was he gonna die?_

_He closed his eyes. His mind brought back glimpses of all the people that wiggled their way into his heart. Fuckin' Stark had been like an older brother, Lilynette like his own little sister. The other workers there that had impacted his life with their presence, and the small family of two that he had begun to think of as his relatives._

_Most of all, he could hear the last words that his idol had spoken to him before leaving him forever. _

'_You're gonna do great things, son.'_

_Right now, Grimmjow felt like he was shattering any hope by thinking back on those words. Those words that his father had truly believed, and that by his non-actions right now, were making a liar out of him._

_His father wasn't a liar._

_And he had not been raised to be a coward._

_Blue eyes were snapped open, intense on winning this fight he was forced into. His arms came up, coiling themselves around the energy that was placed on him. He still couldn't see what it was that was holding him down, but that wasn't important. What was important was getting it off of him._

_His hands were grabbing tightly, tighter than he knew, and right then, something cried out, an inhuman cry that was nothing from the world he knew. A faint outline of the thing was briefly visible when it roared out in pain. _

_He had his clue._

_Grimmjow kept his firm death grip, slowly overwhelming the other's strength. The more he overcame the strength of the thing on top of him, the more visible it became. Grimmjow could see now that it wasn't Ulquiorra, or anything remotely human. It was …_

_With his every bit of power left, Grimmjow twisted the arm of the creature, snapping it in two and the entire weight was removed. It roared again, and Grimmjow could tell it had backed up. He was free of his own death grip and the blue haired male wasn't going to lay around waiting for the creature to come back and take the upper hand again. No, it was Grimmjow's turn. _

_His legs moved, and the next thing he knew he was directly in front of the creature's fading outline. His movements themselves stunned him. How the hell had he moved so rapidly? Grimmjow almost lost his train of thought trying to figure out what had just happened, but the creature's movement kicked him back to his task. If his speed had increased, then maybe—_

_The male pulled back his arm, forgetting that he had landed on it earlier. He had no idea what part of the body he was aiming at, but was more concerned with connecting his fist and making some more damage. He concentrated all his might into a tightly packed fist and he aimed at the outline._

_Flesh to flesh impacted and Grimmjow was left to stand there with a fist extended. He didn't know if the thing had been defeated and destroyed, or had just retreated further._

_The far away voice echoed again, "Sixth ordained."_

* * *

Ulquiorra was left in the empty apartment room; eyes pinned on the blue-haired human releasing astounding levels of energy from an unconscious body.

He kept watching until the boy lifted off the ground in a velocity that had not been there before. The cerulean eyes were now darker, appearing almost navy. The light blue energy swirled beneath his feet, snaking its way up Grimmjow's limbs like ribbons and the ivory tooth quarter of a mask that had formed on his jaw.

He held his stance, glaring back at Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra witnessed the transformation. Blue-green marks etched themselves underneath the man's eyes making them intensify, giving him a wilder look. His arms' muscles expanded. The black hole that could be seen through the ripped shirt absorbed the black liquid along with the blue energy.

The man appeared before Ulquiorra, hand clamped around his throat, sending a warm stinging sensation throughout the other.

His power.

Ulquiorra didn't indicate anything of what he felt. It was clear that this human had no idea what he had just obtained. The cold, apathetic eyes looked into this man's very soul, this human.

Grimmjow was baring his teeth at him, seeming like he was ready to kill Ulquiorra.

Then, Ulquiorra broke the silence, "You're running out of time to save them."

The blue haired male softened his gaze hearing the sudden words, but not by much. Only his mouth had dropped, but the eyes were still threatening.

"Is that not what you wanted? To save them?"

Grimmjow did not answer.

"You are wasting time confronting an opponent you cannot possibly defeat."

Blue eyes blinked.

"I am not an enemy, _Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez_."

That snapped him out of his trance. Grimmjow didn't know when it was he had arrived back in his apartment. The last thing he could recall was—

"Show me that you are worthy of saving them."

There was an intense pause, where Grimmjow observed the green eyed creature. His face was empty of feeling, empty of threats. His arm dropped from the other's throat and without words, he burst open his window, landing on the perch outside.

The wind was blowing by, rustling his hair and the loose shirt. He stood on the rail of the small balcony and behind him, Ulquiorra hadn't moved an inch. He simply observed the blue haired human's actions, noticing how the wind revealed the mark on his body. The gothic six had been imprinted on him already on his lower back. The bold black number stared back at Ulquiorra.

Grimmjow looked down at the empty train rails, following the path with his eyes. This was what he had to do. This is what he _had_ to do. He jumped off, focusing on landing on the elevated train tracks.

Ulquiorra stood there, his black wings behind him, silently reveling in seeing the mark on the human, "The sixth ordained."

* * *

He was running at an incredible speed and not even getting tired. The night air whipped past him and the apartment complexes visible were blurs to Grimmjow. He was pretty sure he was leaving indents on the train tracks with each step he took. After all, he was sending an intense amount of pressure to his feet in order to catch up with the stray trains.

The rails, he could feel them trembling.

He was getting close.

Not very far from where he was running, Grimmjow spotted the chrome mechanism traveling on the rails. Almost there.

From here, he could see into the cars, the people huddled together in some corners, or others grasping dangling rosaries in their shaking hands. There were women cooing at their children, even with tears running from their eyes. Old folks with their faces lowered, like if they were accepting their fate after many years of living. Others were busy looking at the darkened city, wondering why the power shortage had not been enough to stop the train from moving.

Grimmjow launched himself forward landing with a heavy thump on the roof, this time looking down, sure he had left some sort of indentation. The people below were definitely not oblivious to what they had just heard landing, and seeing the metal cave in above them.

The women held their children closer, watching the roof above and the people turned their attention to the sudden event unfurling.

"What…what was that?!" someone inquired, their voice beginning to show signs of panic, making the rest feel more uneasy.

The old woman with the rosary held the item closer to hear heart and whispered, "Whatever it was…please let it be help."

Grimmjow was walking along the roof, the assaulting wind trying its best to throw him off, but he held his stance. The tracks had begun winding and twisting making it difficult to walk on the train since the cars kept making turns.

Just a few more meters and this train would impact the one in front.

Shit, he had to do something fast.

He couldn't hold it off from the front else he would be thrown off the curbs. There was only one option here.

The blue haired male decided to execute his sudden plan right then without going over any details. He jogged off the side of the last car, landing behind it and gripping the edges. With his hands securely grabbing the compartment, he jumped off the edge, feet meeting the rails, jostling his entire body.

Fuck, he hadn't expected the rattling to make him lose grip.

His hands held onto nothing now, and the train was advancing away from him. Again, before it could get any farther, he extended only one arm and grabbed hold, the second arm grabbing the railing below. Still it wasn't enough, as his fingers couldn't really form a good enough grip on the metal tracks.

Inside, the passengers had started to hold on to anything they possibly could, including complete strangers.

"What is that?!" a blonde woman wailed, trying to look out the darkened windows to spot anything on the sides.

The cars jostled again, hurling the passengers to the sides and back to clutching on for dear life. The shaking continued, getting more violent, sending more of the standing people to the floor and the ones that were seated to hold on to their seats.

There was a loud roar from the outside that was covered by the groaning and creaking of the El itself until it stopped, and the people inside felt it was safe to open their eyes.

They looked at each other, puzzled at how everything came to an end. The train was now sitting in the middle of the rails, unmoving, stopped by a force no one had managed to catch a glimpse of. Everyone could feel their heartbeats slowing, relief entering their system.

The babies were still crying loudly, and the adults were giving each other glances that spoke of the exact same thing. Only the white haired woman, sitting in a lonely seat had the courage to break the stifling silence. "Thank you." She said, kissing her religious artifact.

* * *

There was still two more to stop and Grimmjow wasted no time in celebrating one small victory. This one had been the easiest because it had been the one behind, which had not gained as much momentum as the firsts. The second El was coming into view, and not much farther ahead was the first. They were headed for the platform where the rest of the sleeping trains were stationed.

He hurried, easily catching up with both of them landing on the second train's roof and trotting to the very front of it.

Now came the difficult part in it all; deciding which one to stop first.

If he only focused on the second one, the first one would surely crash into the ones sitting at the station. If he tried instead to begin stopping the first one, the second one would crash behind it.

He growled at his hesitancy. The wind kept whipping him in his face as he looked down at the distance between both trains. He narrowed his eyes concentrating in that area. Maybe—

* * *

In the second and first trains, the travelers had lost all hope of being saved seeing the coming station. They knew they were going to crash, and they had accepted the fate of death so early in their lives.

All except an invigorating orange-haired traveler. That passenger was trying to calm the people but they all just shouted back that there was no use in having faith. He walked to the Captain's room, scowl on his face. "Why hasn't this been able to stop?" He asked when entering.

The captain raised his head and gave his visitor a sorrowful gaze, as if feeling pity for the one that still held an optimistic view of the horrifying situation they were in. The blue hat covered his eyes when he gave the orange haired male standing before him his answer. "The station demanded the power be cut off to the city to stop this transit, but…"

"But? Why haven't they done it! People's lives are at stake here! There shouldn't even be a second thought at what they should do!"

The captain became quiet and on his name tag, the orange haired male read that his name was Jones.

"They didn't give it a second thought." Captain Jones admitted and the orange haired male felt like his stomach had just dropped to the deepest depths of Earth.

"What?" Ichigo said. "S-so that means…?"

Captain Jones bowed his head, "Yes. The power had been cut off long ago."

"What-What about changing the course?!" He demanded. "Surely they could have done that already!"

The captain looked into his eyes and then back down, "They tried that too, but did not succeed."

Ichigo almost lost the strength in his legs, but grabbed the doorway to remain standing.

No way. The power had been shut down, yet the El was still going, gaining even more speed. The tracks hadn't been able to change? This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. Logic—No, science dictated that if the circuit was devoid of electric power, blocked or shut down, then it couldn't run. So why had this not stopped the stray train? Was this really the end of his young life?

With the new knowledge that he had just heard, Ichigo lost all sense of hope and the feelings everyone else was emitting were absorbed into his body. Sadness. Sorrow. Despair.

He slumped against the door, sliding to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest.

The captain spoke again, seeing the youth like he was. "I'm sorry young man. You are young, and had to have this terrible fate. It isn't fair. I'm old and have lived a long life. But you…you and these passengers, my passengers, do not deserve for your life to be cut in half so abruptly."

Ichigo made no indication that he had heard any of that. His head had come down to his knees, resting there.

The captain had a grim look on his face, as did everyone else. Now they were all just waiting for this nightmare to come to an end and finally be at peace.

The train sped on, and they watched the station become nearer, and nearer…

And then a white blur landed behind the first train. No one in the second saw it, nor in the first until a fist came down and grabbed the back, making a large dent.

Captain Jones certainly heard the noise of the metal bending, and the white haired male raised himself slightly from his seat to look out the front window.

He squinted, and then all he could see was the butt of the first El coming into view and the train rammed into it.

For s split second, he thought he had died until he heard the startled voices of the passengers in the cars.

Ichigo had felt the crash too, looking up. He glanced at the captain, who had a similar look of disbelief on his face, and then back at the passengers. They were moving to look outside the windows and he heard someone say. "Look! The train that was behind us isn't there anymore!"

What?

Mumbling began, and the passengers pressed their faces to look outside. "Hey, he's right!"

Ichigo scrambled to his feet and went to inspect to see if this statement was true. The pitch black was all he could see outside the window where he remembered the bright pairs of lights had been tailgating them moment before. They had been extremely close to this train he was riding. Had something happened? Had it taken a different course? Had someone changed the track's directions? All these questions were popping into his head, slowly refilling the hope gauge.

He ran to back to the captain but halted and gaped with his mouth hanging.

The train hadn't crashed into the one in front. No, they weren't making any contact. The orange haired male supported himself on the controls, trying to see what it was it had been, but whatever they had impacted had also taken out the front lights, including the one's in the captain's compartment.

The El shook, indicating the people that they were still moving, just not at the blazing speed from before.

Ichigo brought his hand to his mouth, unable to decipher what he was feeling right now. Relief? Was that it?

* * *

Grimmjow had accomplished grabbing onto the first, firm enough hold to begin pulling it back. The second train had no problems catching up as soon as Grimmjow slowed the first. Without hesitation, the second El crashed into his extending palm, the opposing forces battling it out to win over the other.

He was pulling the first train, and holding back the second, intent on stopping the crash that would be inevitable if he wasn't there.

He had to succeed.

Grimmjow clenched his teeth, feeling that he was going to break them against each other. He was using all his strength, all the strength he could muster.

The trains were pulling and pushing at him simultaneously but he wasn't giving up. He called on more power, more ability to stop the Els.

Below him, his feet were digging into the concrete and rails, the friction building up helping him stop the advancing forces. His arms were grabbing onto the metal like clamps, not wanting to let go.

The station was only meters away. He had to stop them now.

He shut his eyes tightly; unable to feel his arms from the strength he was calling on. Was he even still there?

With a loud, almost animalistic roar, Grimmjow tugged on the last cart, bringing it momentarily off the rails and braced his legs on the ground, thrusting his arm forward into the second train, making a larger crater.

He was still roaring out, loud enough to break the unharmed windows, and he had not realized what he had just done.

He had stopped the out of control Els, the first El having been inches away from crashing into the resting trains at the station.

His arms slumped at his sides, letting go of the metal.

His breathing was labored, and his blue eyes gazed up at the darkened sky, where the stars could be visible for the very first time.

Again, he fell to his knees and then face forward into the destroyed concrete. He laid there, head dangling dangerously off the side the tracks. He tried to stand up but his hands had no strength left. All he could do was crawl over to the edge, not noticing how close he was to teetering over the elevated tracks.

The male pushed off, one second the concrete was poking into his chest, and the next, the feeling of wind on his body and the sensation of free falling.

He closed his eyes and let the moment of bliss envelop him in its cold embrace.

* * *

**Whew, that was a long chapter. I wonder if anyone made it to the bottom of the page and is reading this. ;w;  
Anyway, this entire scene had been something entirely different at first but I wrote and re-wrote it about five times until this developed. I decided on the action/suspense. I think this was my very first time writing a scene like this.**

**So, leave a review! :D**

**(if you want)**


	4. Objects in Mirrors

**4. Objects in mirrors are closer than they appear**

_A loud belch escaped the taller man's lips.__  
__With his left hand he held a brown bottle, the label that of a popular choice of beer, and in his right, a cigarette already smoked to the filter.__  
__He stood away from the hood of the car, towering over the little boy sitting on the green grass, playing next to a yellow puppy, who was gnawing playfully at his worn Converse. It barked and pounced at that shoe, tail wagging, happiness emanating from the tiny ball of fur, without a care in the world.__  
__The man swayed in place, taking a last puff from his cancer stick before flicking it away to land on the cracked sidewalk, rolling off onto the street. With bloodshot blue eyes, he gazed down at his son.__  
_

_The tiny hand of the boy was reached out, caressing the puppy's soft ears, as the little dog now focused his attention on his master's hand, reaching out with its own paw. A slight smile was painted on the young face, eyes bright and innocent.__  
__"Ya like that dog, huh, Grimmy?" The man pointed lazily with his beer hand, cerulean eyes never leaving the tiny yellow form.__  
__The boy looked up at his father, a crooked toothy smile and a feverous nod as the answer and the small creature taking this opportunity to bite at his human's hand.__  
__Grimmy pulled it away just in time and attacked the small dog's tummy with his other, making it writher on the ground, right leg shaking when his sweet spot was tickled.__  
__This man loved his son. As he watched him, happy, he felt a warm feeling in his heart. He was the most precious thing in the world to him. The greatest. The reason he hadn't ended his life after his wife's betrayal. No, he instead took another route. A long, slow, and painful alternative to instant death.__  
_

_With his strong, heavy hands, Grimmy's father brought the brown bottle to his lips, taking a hefty swig until the liquid was almost completely drained and some of the booze ran down the side of his mouth. The blue eyes drooped further, his son fearing his dad might hit the ground after so much heavy drinking.__  
__"Dad?" Came a timid boy's voice.__  
__He smiled at his son, a drunk smile, but nonetheless filled with love. "C'mere." A sluggish movement gesturing his only son to come closer.__  
__Grimmy lifted himself from the ground ambling over to his father's taller and more rigid figure. He stood there, glancing at his dad for a brief moment before shifting his gaze down to the ground to the numerous beer bottles strewn across the lawn. The little boy moved his foot causing the empty containers to clatter against each other.__  
_

_Out came a barking laughter from the older male after a small silence, making him flinch until a strong hand came down on his head to ruffle his blue locks. "You afraid of me, son?"__  
__For some reason, the voice didn't sound drunk like when he previously spoke moments before. It didn't sound sluggish or stuttery. Or angry and hateful. It sounded...sober. Like a year ago when he and his dad used to play together all day long, hours on end while mother was absent. Laughing. Wrestling. Teachings on how to be a man. Teachings on how to get a girl, at which Grimmy only scrunched his nose and "Eww"ed at and his father laughed it off, patting his head like he was doing at this moment. They would spend hours at the park, the weak boy struggling to catch a football thrown by a much older man. Spending hours on the road driving around in the black '72 Camino SS listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd, Led Zeppelin, and when his father felt "more soulful" Jimmy Hendrix and Santana, and all the other artists his father loved and liked to sing along to, albeit not well. Spend countless spaghetti and macaroni gourmet dinners on the kitchen table where only two sat. And yet Grimmy was satisfied. And yet Grimmy was happy with the lonely parent who cared for him so much. Loved him. Hugged him. Was there for him, even now in this drunken state.__  
_

_Grimmjow couldn't help but look into his father's eyes hopeful too see them as he once did. Mesmerizing. A small smile was quirked on his father's lips, the same crooked, sideways smile he inherited to his son. Bright white teeth with the canines longer than normal. A tiny sepia colored mole on the bottom left corner of his mouth that you could only notice if you looked hard enough. Strong cheekbones. Straight nose. Powerful electric blue orbs staring back at him. But not as bright as a year ago. Not as strong. Not as electrifying. Not as blue. Dulled. Sad. Sunken pits underneath them, darkened skin there. His demeanor looking much older than it should be. Like he thought for too long. Like he held immature wisdom.__  
_

_The weight on his head lifted and strong hands wrapped around his 6 year old waist, picking him up off the bottle littered ground until he was up against his father's chest and was held there, able to feel a heartbeat. His father finished the beer, gulping it down in one go, pulling it from his lips with an audible smack, and tossed atop the rest of the glass bottles on the ground. It landed without breaking on a soft patch of grass with a dull thud._

_Grimmjow looked at the beer bottles, curiosity of a six year old present before turning back to face his father whom was still smiling at him. He said nothing, and Grimmjow said nothing, too. Silence. The only commotion came from the yellow dog that was yapping at Grimmy's father's heels. But of course, small dogs, only weeks old could only do so much to steel toed boots. His dad chuckled and crossed his legs sending the dog to brace itself from the coming onslaught of the evil boots. Then he repositioned his son in his arms, getting a better grip to hold him. He smiled then looked away, like he always had done before asking a question to anybody. Grimmjow, despite his young age caught on to that habit and picked it up himself. Finally, his dad bubbled up some courage he drank a few seconds before, "Grimmjow, what'dya wanna be when you grow up?"_

_The boy paused, bringing his hand to his mouth to chew on his knuckles, but his father quickly removed the hand away. "Don't do that," he shook his head, but spoke with a quiet voice. The boy nodded in understandment, and fell back into thought. Dad asked this question before, and Grimmjow gave him differing answers. Maybe all those answers were wrong and he was supposed to say something else? Maybe his father asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up because he was waiting for him to say the correct answer? Maybe—_

_His train of thought was interrupted by his dad's stifled chuckle, for little Grimmjow could not see his own face, which at this moment was so deep in thought it gained a reddish color that looked like he was going to burst a vein in his head. Nevertheless, the boy laughed with his dad even if he had no idea what he was laughing about. _

_And all was good. The wind ruffled the leaves of the trees, the melodic sound calming everything. Up above the white, wispy clouds of the sky, the sun peeked through, sending warm rays onto earth. It was Spring, so the sun did not boil everything below. Cars on the street hummed by, honking at Grimmjow's dad, waving a hello and simultaneously a goodbye, which he returned quickly, then just as quickly brought his attention back to his son. He was waiting for an answer._

"_I want to be like you."_

_His father's blue eyes stared back into his, looking at the childish innocence they held yet filled with unknown knowledge that adults forget about when they grow up._

"_You wanna be like me?"  
"Yeah, like you!" Grimmjow beamed._

_Silence stretched yet again, even the dog kept quiet, scampering off to the other side of the lawn where the house was._

_The older male smiled, moving his hand to pat his son's head, making the young boy smile in return. He said nothing though. Just smiled. _

"_Wah," a gurgle came from the house's entrance, taking the happy expression from his dad's face. It was like he had suddenly turned to stone, eyes taking a deep navy color and thin lips pressing into a firm line.  
Now an infant's giggle, followed by a puppy's bark.  
They turned. First his father, then Grimmjow mimicked the action._

_On the dull wooden porch stood a toddler, albeit still wobbling as if inexperienced in the task. A small white shirt stained with ketchup, some yellow substance, probably mustard and other unidentifiable smears which only children at the age know the formula for, was fitted onto her baby-ish form, a diaper clung to her backside looking like it was stuffed with bulging socks. She was holding out a slice of orange in one hand for the dog, and another she was using to attack her face, leaving the fruit's juices dripping from her cheeks._

_The dog was now preoccupied in his new task ignoring anything but that tasty looking treat in the smaller human's hand. The green haired girl giggled dropping the food from her hand just under the dog's nose. "Uwh oh."_

_The puppy sniffed it before sneezing on it and letting know it's disapproval by whimpering then looking back up at the girl hoping she had something better to offer. _

_The child smiled a toothless smile and the small dog wagged its tail, and then sat down waiting for some food. She giggled, and chewed messily at the slice of fruit left in her hand. There was a pink birthmark across her nose and her hair was short, wavy, and it accentuated the roundness of her childish face. _

_The blue haired man set his son down and Grimmjow felt the anger off of him. He looked into his father's eyes as they locked on to the small girl, who was as carefree as the dog at her feet._

"_Dad?"_

_His father said nothing, and resentfully spit on the ground, then wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand._

"_I told you I don' wanna see that girl, Tu!" He walked half-way across the lawn and stood at the base of the steps that led up to the yellow wooden house._

_Grimmjow could only stay frozen in place. He looked at the girl, who was now looking fearfully at the blue-haired man. She started to whimper and the puppy hid behind the bench that was on the porch. _

"_Get her the fuck outta my sight!" He bellowed, picking up a dirty bottle next to his feet._

_The next thing Grimmjow saw was the flying brown container smashing and shattering against the walls of the exterior; the shards scattering on the wooden deck, but at a safe distance from the one-year old._

_The girl began to wail._

_There were rushed steps from the house and a woman came out through the doorway. She had a white apron tied around her waist that covered her legs, and a pink blouse. Her hazel eyes shifted from Grimmjow's father to the green haired toddler, full of rage. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, G?"_

"_The fuck does it look like I'm doing?" The man slurred, pointing at the crying infant, "Tryin' to get that thing outta my sight. Tol' you I don't wanna see her." He added darkly._

"_She's just a child! You can't go around throwing bottles at her!" She walked closer to the wavering man, and stopped mid-way down the steps._

_They stared each other down, the woman pursing her lips and the man baring his fangs._

_Grimmjow stood there, clenching his small fists at his side._

_There wasn't anything he could do._

_Finally, someone spoke, "Yeah, should've thought of that before you fucked another guy n' got pregnant."_

_The woman said nothing, her face losing much of the fierce intensity from before. Her lip quivered, but even then, Grimmjow's father did not send much sympathy to her._

"_I told you, I regretted it." She said softly, wiping a tear from her cheek with the palm of her hand. Her hazel eyes shifted to Grimmjow before quickly reverting to her husband's._

_The blue haired male stood his ground, looking into his wife's watery eyes._

_From here, Grimmjow could see it all, even the words that were not being spoken. But for a child at his age, he could not completely understand them fully. No, those unspoken words were to forever be locked in the individual's hearts._

_The green haired child was still crying loudly and the birds were chirping in their nests. Planes flew by, making loud sounds, and the neighbor's horrible music could be heard during the long, awful silence that seemed to stretch on for hours._

"_You're askin' for redemption from me, Tu." He walked closer to his wife, climbing up the stairs to grab her hand. She seemed wary of his drunken state and took a step back. Grimmjow's father was still tall enough to look her in the face, even when she was two steps above him. He grabbed her hand and she let him. "I fuckin' loved you, you know that. Left every fuckin' thing for you." He spoke in a hushed tone, breath fanning her face with every rotten word. "And ya gimme this!" An arm gestured at the small green haired child._

_His wife began to sob, her beautiful face contorting into an ugly, pained, and guilty expression._

"_Ya know what I fuckin' did for you while you fucked a guy you barely even knew?!"_

_She didn't answer, only sniffled loudly trying to swallow the tears._

"_I thought about you, Grimmjow. Wonderin' if you were okay. Thinking on how to make both of ya smile."_

_She had revered to silent whimpers._

"_Guess you were too busy bein' a whore and all to even care."_

Slap.

_Grimmjow's dad's face had turned abruptly, eyes still lidded from the effects of the alcohol. He was looking in Grimmjow's direction, but staring right through him._

_His mother's arm was extended, and her chest heaved up and down._

_His dad's head turned, disregarding the violent act. There was a brief pause, until one spoke. "Tu, I loved you." He whispered. She lifted her pink rimmed eyes to look into his._

_Then he walked away from her, steps leading him towards Grimmjow, his only son. His sole reason to live anymore._

_Grimmjow saw his father, his strong form walk to him, free of the inebriated effects. He looked towards his mother, who was standing there, now cradling the sobbing child. Tears staining both their faces._

_Cerulean wide eyes stared up at his father, whom picked him up and opened the passenger door to the El Camino, setting him in the black leather seat and buckling the seat belt on him._

"_Wait, what are you doing?" His mom's wide eyes released more tears as she looked between the larger man and his son. "G?!" The toddler was still cradled in her arms as she picked up her apron and rushed down the steps._

_His father said nothing as her drew the keys from his pocket and inserted them in the ignition. He slammed the door shut ant the car rumbled to life, drowning out desperate attempts at answers._

"_G!" Those hazel eyes were wide and afraid._

_Grimmjow looked at his mother then at the puppy. "Dad, where are we going?" He looked at his father now._

_The larger man hit a button on the car stereo and Johnny Cash began to sing in his hearty song "Daddy Sang Bass"._

_His father did not answer as he swerved off onto the deserted street._

"_G!" His mother was now practically screaming her lungs out as she ran out to the middle of the lawn, hoping to catch the El Camino._

"_Somewhere."_

_Grimmjow looked into the side mirror, his mother's image reflected in it holding the small girl with the green hair and pink birthmark along her nose._

_He was old enough to read the lettering below; "Objects in mirror are closer than they appear."_

* * *

Blue eyes snapped open to the sun's horrifying rays stabbing at his sensitive retinas. Grimmjow shifted his eyes from side to side, absorbing his surroundings, the sun proving a nuisance this early in the morning.

Where was he?

He sat up only to be held back by an intense amount of soreness.

Fuck, he felt like he'd just been run over by a train. He groaned and slumped back to his reclined position.

"So you're awake now." Came a low voice from another side of the room.

He turned to face the source of the monotone sound, back aching form the movement.

There, standing over him was Ulquiorra Schiffer, his pale face indifferent as it was the moment he first saw him.

His blue eyes blinked, thinking that maybe he was imagining the other's presence, but after rubbing his eyes, he realized that Ulquiorra was not a figment of early morning grogginess.

The pale man blinked back, staring through his entire being.

"You're…"

"Ulquiorra Schiffer."

"Yeah, but…"

"You cannot remember that night's events after I tore a hole through your body." He spoke, voice unwavering as if stabbing through people was a common thing for him.

Grimmjow's eyes widened by a whole fraction raising his ripped white shirt to examine his mid-section.

He only saw the smooth planes of his abs. He ran a hand over them like he was making sure that his mind wasn't playing tricks.

Ulquiorra was gazing blankly at him, waiting for the inevitable question that was to come.

"What happened last night?"

"You slept." He quickly replied.

What?

"And slept the night before that. And before that." His face made no expressions.

Grimmjow stared at Ulquiorra with the identical puzzled look as when he said it the first time. "What?"

"Did you mean to ask what happened three human nights before?"

As best as he tried to comprehend the other, Grimmjow couldn't wrap his head around it. Most importantly, why couldn't he remember anything from yesterday? What the hell did Ulquiorra mean by "three nights ago"? What did—

Grimmjow looked at the scene outside the window, trying to think this through. Wait—This was –

"How long have I been asleep?" He questioned, turning back to Ulquiorra. With the illuminating rays of the sun in the way, the dazed man had not realized in his own house. After all, Grimmjow didn't frequent it during the daylight hours much.

"Three days."

"Three?!"

"Yes, I sad that." Ulquiorra blinked.

How was that possible? He didn't even remember sleeping in the first place. He didn't remember anything except coming back from Stark's, watching the news, hearing the trains…Seeing the trains…

"What happened to those out of control Els?" Now the blue-haired man was scooting out of bed, the springs in the bed squeaking with every movement of his body.

Ulquiorra watched him with those emerald eyes of his. The other's stare never ceased to make Grimmjow feel inferior.

"You stopped them."

* * *

Ichigo was tapping his pen on the edge of a specimen table. His eyebrows were furrowed together, his teeth biting at his pink bottom lip in frustration. Despite being so close to glass jars that held valuable experiments in progress, Ichigo sighed away his small anger and slammed the pen down.

Yoruichi, who had just stepped in from the other view, caught this action. "Ichigo."

The orange haired male startled at another presence, turned around quickly, patting his white lab coat down and stuffing the pen in his pocket, almost knocking down a transparent bubbling jar with his abrupt movements.

Yoruichi looked at him for a few seconds, Ichigo squirming uncomfortably under her yellow-eyed leer. "I expect great things from you Ichigo; Don't let me catch you spacing out like that again." Her eyes shifted from him to a small, white sheet of paper with blue all over it. Again, she questioned the man before her with her eyes, and Ichigo's reaction of, "Crap, I forgot to hide that," gave her the chance to walk over and pick it up to examine.

Her thin, high heels clopped the black marble floor and the paper crumpled under her grip. She gave it a one over, and her gaze softened, before placing the paper back down, walking over to Ichigo.

"Is this about what happened three day ago?" The usual gazes from her, stern or playful, were gone from her eyes, instead replacing them was the rare, genuine concern.

Ichigo felt like something was clawing up at his throat when she asked him that. The woman was way too intuitive for someone with no children and her scientific brain only added to her exact guesses.

"I told you that you could take a few days off for the feeling to wear out. I need my scientists to be in top form—"

"I'm not a scientist; I'm only an intern, Yoruichi-san. I can't miss any days." The male's voice was trying it's best to stop the wavering of his voice.

The purple haired woman stared into the brown depths of Ichigo's eyes, trying to find any doubts in his resolve.

When finding none, she placed her hands in the pockets of the lab coat slipping out a white folded sheet of paper. She handed it to Ichigo, who simply stared at it for a few seconds before grabbing it between his fingers and holding it in his hands.

"It's from Aizen. He requests the new intern to find out for himself if he really is 'a prodigy worth speaking of.'" She imitated the man's voice with the last few words, and her expression showed her disdain towards the man.

Ichigo chuckled, knowing that this department didn't particularly work well with the upper science and research department, or any other, for that matter. Although this floor was named _R.A.D. 12_, it wasn't the only research section of the company, and it was only dubbed "12" because Yoruichi frequented room twelve most often than the others, and she was head of the science team.

Ichigo had never been in direct presence of Aizen but he had read articles on the man's genius and discoveries, which had changed much of the way the world thought and functioned, but would not be put in effect until more years of perfectioning.

Yoruichi had stepped out of the room, occasionally peering over the flasks and cylinders. When she finally stepped out of view, Ichigo folded open the white paper and read its contents.

He had expected it to have some sort of praise, as many of his teachers back at university did, but it did not.

The slip of paper merely had a floor and room number and a time in the very center in thin and fancy print.

The male folded back the sheet and slipped it in his coat. He still had a few hours until the requested time came, and he would parade it here in the lab thinking over the procedures of an experiment laid out by Urahara and maybe new ones to improve the already completed ones.

Ichigo walked over to the very back of the room where there was a graduated cylinder sitting atop a bookshelf with other glass containers, albeit, all of those were empty. He stood on the tips of his toes, peeking over the middle shelf. There was his graduated cylinder, peacefully sitting in the quiet section of the lab. There was a pencil sitting horizontally across the jar and a string attached to it, dangling in the water. Blue crystals had started to form on it and they had now grown to what looked like the size of his finger's width.

In a few more days, the rock candies would be perfected to Ichigo's liking.

Yeah, he would just parade around the big lab thinking of experiments and science.

And maybe, just maybe, of the blue haired delivery boy who hadn't made an appearance lately.

* * *

**So I decided to change the category from Crime to Sci-Fi because I figured some stuff out….xD**

**Uh, I added in some background to Grimmjow; hope it wasn't too random. **

…**Yeah, so, like…I ran out of energy drinks. OTL**


	5. Gaps

**Ch. 5, Gaps**

After what Ulquiorra had told him, Grimmjow had gotten out of bed despite the protests of his body. Three days of lying unconscious really left a person in a funk, so he had quickly showered and dressed to go see if Stark hadn't fired him yet.

Or reported him as missing.

Or dead.

He was walking along the mid-day busy streets, a cold underlying feeling in the wind even though Fall and Winter were months away. He wore a customary white tee, and black jeans, and a spare pair of Converse. The situation was odd, in some way, because Grimmjow had never really frequented this side of the streets, his neighborhood, during the daylight hours. Those times of day, he was in the center of the city delivering packages for Stark. This place looked worse than when darkness shrouded it.

As he walked, he continued to think back on what happened in his apartment. The blue haired male still couldn't believe what Ulquiorra had told him…

"_I _stopped _the trains?" He gaped at the other who did not make any indications that he was joking. Not that Ulquiorra seemed like the type to joke._

"_Yes," Ulquiorra insisted, "I am aware that giving a human inhuman abilities can sometimes distort their mind at first, but Grimmjow…" he focused a stern gaze on the blue haired male._

_Grimmjow looked up from his stupor, meeting eyes with Ulquiorra._

"_Be aware that you cannot use the gift I have brought upon you recklessly."_

_He stared at the pale man for a few minutes or seconds, before he felt like he was under a microscope and broke the trance, getting out of bed. Somehow, he sensed that the –that Ulquiorra was holding out on his words._

_That's when he had noticed that the Converse he had worn three days ago were shredded scraps on his feet. "The fuck?" He reached out to touch the ruined pair._

"_Seems like you might need more adequate wear when using your powers." Spoke the monotone voice._

The man rounded one last corner, steps away from arriving at _Stark's Stark Delivery, _but stopped short. The walk light was red, cars were zooming by, drivers were shouting out obscene words, and a few messenger bikes skidded by, extremely close to the patrons on cell phones waiting to cross, making Grimmjow hope one of those delivery people wasn't his replacement. The streets were busier than usual. Even through all that commotion and cacophony of city sounds, Grimmjow's ear perked at a certain babble in the background. It was a woman speaking; she was giving a report.

"…_images of the out of control rail system…" _

He pushed his way back from the masses of humans blockading his path to the small store that had television sets on display. Through the glass window, Grimmjow could see on the high resolution screen the anchorwoman speaking before it cut to a different scene.

"_This is live feed of the construction that is taking place on the south-side station where three days ago, a mysterious force miraculously stopped the stray El systems. Live interviews with the people have given us insight on how frightful it was to have been on the razor's edge. Investigators are still trying to figure out what exactly was it that saved our citizens that night…Today, an anonymous video was streamed to our station. It is a short clip caught by a cell phone, and today we are able to show to our viewers, what exactly it looked like during that night."_

Grimmjow was too focused on the television that he hadn't noticed the swarm of people beginning to move to the other side of the street. It didn't matter to him though; as he was too busy trying to fill the gaps of his memory with every possible clue. Finally, the scene warped to another picture; the blurry and shaky video starting.

At first, his blue eyes found it hard to focus, with the bad camera holding and bad quality joining forces. He could hear a wail, and a feminine voice cutting through asking "What is that?" in a panicked voice. Then the video blurred quickly and was aimed at a dent on the roof before the cell phone appeared to be dropped.

The reporter was back on the screen, lips together until she began to read the teleprompter again. "_With the construction in progress on multiple sides of the rails, citizens are recommended to take detours with the north and west side rail systems. Streets will be busy and the South and Eastern side of the transit system will be closed off to the public until further notice. This was Jeanne Prada reporti…"_

His heart was beating against his ribcage, and suddenly his brow started to sweat. Weather it was from heat or something else, Grimmjow didn't have time to think about it. His mind kept reeling back to the caving metal and the way the images shook.

Before the walk light timer could count down to zero, the blue haired male sprinted across the street, vehicles beginning to move forward. He burst in to Stark's expecting to find the light green haired girl but she wasn't there. Instead it was…

"BAKAYARO!"

He saw a flash of red before he felt an impact on his right jaw and stumbled back onto the floor.

"Coming in late after 2 days absent, jackass?!"

Grimmjow held his jaw tight, adding pressure to the oncoming waves of pain it was causing. For the time being, he focused on the situation at hand instead of filling his memory gaps. He looked up, seeing a small blonde with two ponytails on the sides of her head, glaring down at him, baring her snaggletooth, arms crossed, like she was the boss.

"What the hell you lil' bitch!" He spat.

The blonde girl dropped the sandal that had been in her hand and slipped her foot in, at the same time bringing her foot back for a kick. "What did you call me, dumbass!?"

However, Grimmjow was ready this time. When he saw the size four foot slicing air to reach his face and brought his hands up and caught it easily between them.

"Let go, idiot!" she flailed, trying to free her leg, but seeing as the blue-haired male wasn't going to free her, his angry eyes being the indication, she shifted her weight around, to kick with her spare leg.

Grimmjow ducked, releasing her caught foot half-way, catching the other. Now he had her held by the ankles of both legs.

She was upside down, cursing Grimmjow with every swear word of every language. "Let go of me you dumbass! I don't want to be touched by you!" Her voice was full of venom, her arms thrashing around trying to reach her captor, to no avail.

"Shut up, kid." He said, eyebrow twitching, "Or I'll throw you downtown."

She froze. Even though that shut her trap, it didn't stop the agitated girl from trying to set Grimmjow on fire with her glare.

"Whoa, Hiyori. Caught in some trouble?" Came a voice. From the doorway that led to Stark's office and storage room appeared yet another blonde, this one with a straight hair that framed his thin face. He had hazel eyes in between thin eyeball slits, a straight nose, and a creepy toothy grin. A box was hoisted up on his shoulder, a thin arm positioning it there.

"Shut up, Shinji. You dumbass!" Despite her feral, outward personality, the girl had begun developing moisture on the rims of her eyes. She sniffed and that made Grimmjow drop her small, light body on the floor headfirst.

"Stupid Grimmjow! You were supposed to bring me down nicely!" She bared her snaggletooth at the man three times her height and he growled back. It was like watching two dogs, or cats, fighting in front of Shinji.

"So, you finally decide to show up, Grimmjow?" A sleepy eyed Stark that looked like he had had a rough night appeared behind Shinji. He rubbed his grey-blue eyes with his hand and leaned on the doorway.

"Ha, you're in trouble with Stark now, dumbass." The red-suited anger problem stood up, and stuck her tongue out at Grimmjow.

"Hiyori, go organize the boxes out back." Stark mumbled, then yawned.

"What?! But those boxes are empty!" Was her outraged cry.

"Just go do it." Stark commanded, extracting a heated glare from Hiyori, who then shoved past him, mumbling her anger.

Honestly, Grimmjow hadn't thought of a good excuse to tell his boss. He stared at him, vocal chords tangled. Was he really supposed to say, 'Hey, Stark. I dropped off the face of the Earth for two days because I was busy stopping the trains and over-exerted myself.'?

"We've been having late deliveries ever since you dropped from existence. A nice call would have been nice…" Stark said, lazy voice trailing off, along with his gaze.

Grimmjow opened his mouth to reply something but Stark spoke again, "Shinji here has been working overtime to deliver what you haven't. So, can just go grab the rest of the packages out back and start." He yawned again, this time mouth wider than before.

No way.

Stark was really letting him slide? Well, Grimmjow had always been his best and never failed him before.

That and Stark was a careless bastard.

"Ah, man. Why don't I get special treatment? He should at least work my shift." Shinji pouted, sticking his lip out. He had been ignored up until then.

"Because. Now get to work." The brunette and Grimmjow exchanged smirks that made Shinji smack his teeth and leave the building.

Stark's smile faltered when Shinji left, and it was then Grimmjow figured out that it had all been a façade. Stark motioned him with a shake of his head to follow him into his office.

Shit.

When they walked in, Stark closed the door behind them. "Mind telling me where you've been?" He walked past Grimmjow, taking a seat in his chair behind his wooden desk.

At that particular moment, Grimmjow felt like he was ten years old and being chastised by the school principal. He swallowed not knowing what the hell to say. He couldn't tell the truth.

Ever.

Stark raised a brown, perfectly arched brow and folded his hands over the desk.

Crap, what could he say?

Grimmjow could hear the subtle ticking of the clock and he could feel the bead of sweat forming on his forehead. He had to say something, fast.

"I got sick."

What a lame excuse.

But at least it wasn't a total lie. And his boss seemed to believe it.

Stark sighed and leaned back, making his chair squeak, "You could've called in sick."

"Sorry, forgot."

There was a pause form Stark's side, where he shifted his gaze to the ground at the rest of the piles of boxes and envelopes. Grimmjow watched him, anticipating what he was going to do next, but the guy was difficult to predict.

"I expect to be caught up with deliveries by the end of today."

Holy shit. That was it?

Grimmjow saw the stacked up piles of envelopes, boxes, all of different sizes and levels of importance. He ambled over sorting through them briefly before taking the ones that were addressed closer.

"And Grimmjow." He called, when the blue-haired male was trudging out the door.

"What?"

Those slate colored eyes narrowed, and his mouth opened a fraction before closing tight. Stark tapped his chin with his finger, "Nothing, never mind, get going." He cleared his throat, stood up to fix his white blazer, and then rounded his desk, heading to the door.

"What?" Grimmjow asked again, a little agitated this time.

"I'll tell you when you get back." The brunette avoided his friend and worker's frown and closed the door.

* * *

Two o'clock, in the baking hot sun, the cars beeping and streets more crowded than usual, and Grimmjow was weaving his bike through the masses of people, trying his best to avoid crashing into them.

Two deliveries had been for local businesses that weren't far off from Stark's building. Those had been taken care of immediately after sorting and organizing the boxes and envelopes according to addresses. Grimmjow had planned the routes in his head. He'd take the closer ones first, which there were more of, and then take care of the farther ones. His path around the city, if viewed from above was a spiral, starting from his initial point all the way to the rest of town.

It was working well so far, only about two hours and he had already distributed more than Shinji had in the two days. But of course, Shinji used the cars. He looked at the remaining packages in the basket.

All destined for Sakura Co.

The side streets were proving to be awful to maneuver through, with all the pedestrians ignoring the _fuck_ out of his existence. A woman with a big pair of brown sunglasses had the nerve to stand in his way.

He braked, resting the weight on his leg, waiting for the woman to get out of his path. "Ma'm, could you move. I'm in a hurry."

She stood there, unmoving.

Obviously, this woman was neither deaf nor blind and her cold-shoulder was ticking him off.

"Could you move?" The politeness in his voice was beginning to be replaced by irritation.

Again, she kept her posture, waving a yellow cab over, blocking even more of the street for Grimmjow.

He growled under his breath, backing up the pedal bike to find an alternative route, seeing as the woman was taking her damn sweet time lugging herself into the passenger seat. Like she was doing it on purpose.

Bitch.

The side streets were filled to the curb; the only way he was getting through was cutting through the main streets. Grimmjow steered over to the edge, looking right, then left, then right again.

Looked pretty safe.

He placed his feet on the pedals, kicking off the asphalt. He'd done this plenty of times before, at least during early hours where the main roads were mostly deserted.

But not in the middle of mid-day rush hour.

A busier rush hour.

Him being the cause of said rush hour being so bad.

He sucked his teeth, riding in between some cabs, the drivers lazily resting their arm on the window. The congestion was bad. Really bad. From where he was, Grimmjow could see it stretching out for miles, branching off in different directions. It didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon. Not even if it was 2 hours after lunch break.

He pumped the pedals, determined to finish the work Stark trusted him with. Just these left and a few more and he was done. He wasn't going to let cars and angry drivers stop him. Hell no.

With a more determined attitude, the blue-haired male zoomed past all the stagnant vehicles and frustrated drivers who could only sit back and watch a male on a bike rush past them. This was precisely the reason Grimmjow never drove around on the stupid little Subarus Stark had stashed for "economic purposes".

Grimmjow breathed through his nose, legs barely feeling the sting of the workout. He was half-way there. If he kept going at this pace—

"Yo, delivery boy!"

He turned to the source of the voice. It was ahead, coming from a sleek black car. Maybe four or five people stuffed inside. Grimmjow kept his eyes on the owner of the voice, his suspicions being that it had been the kid with brown curly hair and a smug grin on his face. Then his smile split in half- showing his front crooked teeth, and he opened side door, blocking the path.

Shit.

Grimmjow didn't have time to hit the brakes at such close proximity. All he heard was the jeering laughter of teenage kids and he barreled into the door.

He was on the floor now, hearing gasps of people and feeling the hot concrete underneath his strewn out form. Blue eyes opened up, his arms going under him to push off the ground.

"Holy shit… dude." It was another voice, same age bracket as the first one that had called Grimmjow.

Papers fluttered in his view. The envelopes he was supposed to deliver. A couple of smashed up boxes below him.

And a car door not more than a few feet from where he lay, completely smashed in.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the dizzy feeling. He heard the shards of glass that were falling from his hair tinkle on the ground.

He groaned, coughing out dust that had settled in his lungs. He looked around, bewildered by the play of events. On-lookers equally baffled and amazed.

"He …just…" Same voice.

Fuck, where the hell was his bike? The rest of the stuff?

Grimmjow shuffled to his feet, holding an area of his head where he could feel a sharp stabbing. The bike, he noticed, was twisted at an angle where he knew it wouldn't work properly anymore. He craned his neck, feeling numerous pairs of eyes ogling at him.

Like a drunk, the light-blue haired male danced across the pavement, picking up the parcels and letters, practically tripping over his feet. Fuck, did he hit his head? The pain was killing him.

"Hey man, you all right?" It was a cab driver, jet black hair covering one of his eyes. He didn't bother to hold the steering wheel, since the traffic wasn't moving and instead took this time to eat his soggy burger. His eyebrows were wrinkled together, eyeing the stumbling male before him. He bit another chunk of his food, chewing it loudly.

Grimmjow nodded, feeling his brain hit against the walls of his cranium. Ignoring any other calls of concerned people, he picked up the wrecked bike, the white bag, stuffing the banged up packages inside, and left the sounds behind.

He trudged over to an alleyway; the noises blocked out by the concrete walls, rested his head on the cool walls and breathed in the soothing scent of urine and trash and cats and homeless people.

The bag slipped out of his fingers by some and the bike fell out of his arms, crashing on the floor with a loud clatter.

He felt…odd.

He opened his eyes by a fraction, examining his tan arms.

Unharmed. Free of scrapes, as opposed to the metal door lying in the center of the car lanes, still wobbling from the impact.

The kid was getting out. Grimmjow could see him bursting a vein in his head looking back and forth from the door to the door-less car. He heard him cuss, then kick the front wheel.

Probably his dad's car.

His friends were still astonished. Amazed at what they had just witnessed.

It was like Grimmjow had barely touched the car's door and it went flying off.

He inhaled a breath of stench, ambling over to the dead end of the narrow passage, dragging the baggage behind him. He hit the back wall, pressing his back against it, closing his eyes, hoping the annoying pain away.

"Grimmjow."

Ulquiorra.

He'd recognize that voice anywhere.

The male opened his eyes to see the white figure blocking the only exit with the massive wings. He looked almost godly even if he was standing on trash. He was staring at him again with those emerald eyes of his and his hair wildly swayed behind him. And Grimmjow couldn't look away this time. Always he had avoided being pinned down by his stare. One that tore open his very soul.

Now he was beginning to walk towards him. Eyes paralyzing him in place. He hated being cornered so easily.

Grimmjow could see it now. He could see the slits for pupils; pure black absorbing him in.

Ulquiorra halted his stride, the last step almost echoing—resonating in Grimmjow's ears.

And his pain was gone. And he gasped out a whoosh of air he didn't know he was holding.

Ulquiorra was still gazing at him, eyes more condescending this time.

He didn't say anything, just examined the specimen before him.

"Stop staring at me like that." Grimmjow said, head still leaned against the walls. He tilted his face to the side, avoiding Ulquiorra's green eyes.

The other blinked, "I warned you not to be reckless Grimmjow." It was like he was scolding him.

Grimmjow growled, "I didn't do shit."

"You let yourself almost be consumed."

This sparked his senses. Grimmjow stood upright, "What?" he barked.

When Ulquiorra said nothing further concerning the matter, Grimmjow took a menacing step forward, narrowing his eyes. "There's something you're not telling me." And of course, he had been hesitant to ask before, but now—now was different.

"The time has not arisen, Grimmjow."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" He growled. He hated how Ulquiorra always said his name. Like he knew him. Like he had power over him.

For the first time, it was Ulquiorra who averted his eyes. Briefly. Until that hard glare was back again and his black lips were pressed together. "I cannot tell you that, Grimmjow."

And then the bastard was gone. Turned into ash and vanished.

He left Grimmjow boiling in his own unanswered questions. He felt his knuckles almost splitting from how hard he was clenching his fists.

The male looked down, seeing his own distorted reflection in a puddle of stagnant water and gasoline. Grimmjow stomped across the puddle, his face transforming into endless ripples, wetting the bottom portion of his pants. He exited the narrow alley, messenger bag still dragging on the asphalt. Traffic was still shit, and the bike was a wreck that he decided not to lug behind. The delivery boy headed towards Sakura Co. on foot, the task proving to be long and tiring.

* * *

He reached the building about an hour later, anger evaporated with the heat, the sun still pounding on his dehydrated body. It hadn't occurred to him to stop for a drink.

Grimmjow waited at the reception desk for Momo, if he remembered correctly, to phone the department that he had arrived and ask if he could proceed through. She smiled, motioning Grimmjow to go ahead and pass.

He did as he was requested, pushing the elevator button. While he waited, he noticed a gloomy blonde with a large bang over his blue eyes. It made him uncomfortable the way he was glaring at him and Grimmjow was grateful that the silver doors opened when they did. He made his way to the very back of it, ignoring the two people that walked in behind him.

One had spiky black hair and… three horns poking out of his forehead?

The other was a slender woman whom sported her hair in a large braid, and her green eyes showing her melancholic expression. She did not smile and Grimmjow wondered if women her age were now beginning to use Botox.

The elevator dinged closed and he tried his best to pretend they weren't there by staring down at his shoes.

The elevator halted and one more person stepped in, lost in his own task of eating sweets. He was a short male with brown hair, a portion of it tied with a red tie. He lost his composure when seeing the black haired people already in the elevator. Before he could back away, the spike haired male spoke, "Slacking off again, huh, Rin? Mayuri-sama won't be happy to hear this."

Fuck. Looks like they were going to take their sweet ass time scolding this kid.

"N-No, not at all Akon!" He waved his hand defensively in front of himself, hiding the bag of sweets from view with the other.

"Get in here." The black haired male spoke through clenched teeth. He grabbed the kid by the collar of his lab coat and dragged him into the tight space. Rin had his head down, and that's when the black haired woman faced Grimmjow. "You should get expelled from the program if anyone else find you out here again."

"Are we making you uncomfortable?" The dark-haired female blinked at Grimmjow who was still busy looking at the contours of his Converse.

"Huh, Nemu?" Akon spoke, glancing over at the girl and momentarily forgetting the boy in his clasp. He hadn't noticed the blue-haired passenger riding with them.

"This man. He feels uncomfortable."

Moments later, Grimmjow looked up when the elevator came to a standstill. Three pairs of eyes were analyzing him.

"Yes, true. What do you think it could be Nemu-san?" The brown haired male stuck a chunk of bread in his mouth leaving crumbs on his chin.

"It could be he's depressed."

"Depressed?"

"Yes, males his age have needs and if they aren't satisfied, they fall into depression, loss of appetite, poor self-esteem…"

What.

The.

Hell.

Both of them were seriously invading his personal space and Grimmjow could almost feel their eyelashes on his cheekbones. How the fuck was he going to get out of this one?

"Tell me, when was the last time you had intercourse, Blue-haired-sama?"

"Nemu-chan, do you really think with his looks he doesn't do it on a daily basis?" Yoruichi was revealed when the doors slid open, hands positioned on her hips and a wide, catty smile on her face. Grimmjow was inwardly relieved she appeared when she did, even if last time, she had been…strange.

Nemu turned around and faced the purple haired female, "No, not at all, Yoruichi-same." She bowed and walked across the space to step into the eleventh door, followed by the other two passengers that had been in the same elevator.

Yoruichi stepped forward, "So, what have you got for us today, Grimmjow? Been out for awhile, huh?"

He nodded and pulled out three bent letters and a small crushed box.

Her yellow eyes narrowed and then widened, "What happened here?" She laughed, but didn't wait for an explanation. "Accidents happen, huh?"

Grimmjow merely nodded.

* * *

The brown haired male's voice echoed through the large space. The room was spotless and neat and Ichigo couldn't help but notice it didn't really look like a lab, but more of a dead dining hall. Aizen was sitting at the head of the table, sipping tea.

Tea, for fuck's sake. This was one of the most common lab procedures taught through elementary school: Don't eat or drink in the lab.

"Tell me Ichigo, how long have you been interested in this field?" The man's eyelids drooped over his brown eyes as he waited for his response. He set his white cup down on a porcelain plate, and rested his head on his hand.

Ichigo cleared his throat of the scratchy feeling the flavorless taste had produced and answered, "Well, my dad is a scientist. So, probably my whole life." He hoped that the sarcasm didn't audibly drip from his statement.

The pink haired male that was sitting across from Ichigo chuckled at his answer, making Ichigo scowl at the white table. He fixed his white glasses, pushing them up his nose, "Well, isn't that a clever answer?"

The orangette felt his teeth grind against each other.

Aizen took another sip, "Now, now Szayel. Kurosaki-san is our guest today. We have to be polite. Even if he did choose to associate himself with the lower department."

He felt his hands clench in his lap. Yes, the research and development department was a floor lower than this department, but Ichigo couldn't help think that this man, Aizen, meant a different thing. He had heard the man boasted his arrogance around with overwhelming pride.

A bell chimed in the distance, making Ichigo look up, eyebrows still furrowed together. Aizen hadn't moved, and the pink haired scientist was still staring at Ichigo with a smug look on his face, the yellow eyes looking down at him.

"Well, our time is up, Kurosaki-san." Aizen set his cup down and two females came from behind him, head bowed, taking up the dishes on trays, and then retreating back from where they had come from. "Maybe next time, you could help us with an experiment." Aizen smiled.

Really? He had a set time for how long he wanted him there?

Ichigo bore his brown eyes at him. That polite demeanor hid the real Aizen, he concluded. The things he had read in magazines and articles were merely a delicious icing that hid the poisonous cake below. He pushed his chair back, "Of course."

Ichigo didn't know what was more stifling; the air in the room or the aura Aizen emitted. He had exited as fast as he could from the chilly room, wanting to get back as fast as possible to the warm, friendly feelings of Department Twelve. He didn't think about taking the elevators, seeing so many equally egotistic, overconfident and presumptuous as Aizen swaggering about the building would surely make him snap and set the building on fire.

He marched down the steps; one flight, two flights, (Damn, why did they spiral?) three flights, four, opened the door and BAM!

"Out of my way asshole!" He shouted at the poor comer who had decided to block the exit from the stair corridor. Shit, he went and said. He hoped it wasn't anybody above him.

"What a mouth you turned out to have Kurosaki." He looked to the side of the blocker, noticing Yoruichi eating an instant cup of ramen, the noodle sticking out of her mouth with her smile.

Who was blocking his view then?

He craned his neck upwards, meeting a bombshell of cerulean hair.

Wait.

The owner tilted turned his body around, revealing to Ichigo that he too, had the same meal that Yoruichi held. The electric blue eyes held him in place, even with the stray noodle dangling over his chin. He slurped the wavy strand and swallowed, Ichigo watching form his peripheral how the Adam's apple bobbed up and down. The male frowned, and Ichigo feared for his safety.

After all, no one appreciated being called an asshole.

The man opened his mouth, deep voice reaching Ichigo's ears like music. What a nice way to get the shit beaten out of you.

Until the still working part of his brain figured out what he said.

"Aren't you the one I saw setting his hair on fire?"

* * *

**Holy mother-.A.  
I had a really hard time writing the chapter. Scene transitions and all.  
Had to re-write this multiple times! D;  
And yay, we get to see more of Grimmjow interacting with people~  
So, yeah. Review? ;A;**


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